


Swing of the Ax

by round_robin



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Sex, Beheading, District 13, District 4, District 7, F/M, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Oral Sex, Secret Relationship, Suicidal Thoughts, The 63rd Hunger Games, The 64th Hunger Games, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-08 12:57:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 45,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4305978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/round_robin/pseuds/round_robin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The words bypassed Dean’s brain and went right to his lips. “I volunteer!” No one in the crowd seemed to react, so he said it again, “I volunteer!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Volunteer

**Author's Note:**

> I was rereading The Hunger Games Trilogy in anticipation for the last movie coming out this year, when I thought to myself, "You know who'd do really well in the Hunger Games? Dean Fucking Winchester." And now here we are.
> 
> This isn't so much about Dean's Games as it is fitting him into this world. I'm going through the whole series right up through the end of the last book, so the Games aren't really the focus. I also wanted to keep Dean around the same age he is in the show, so he's the victor of the 63rd games. He won when he was 17, so he'd be 29-30 around the 75th Games and through the rebellion.
> 
> The main relationship is Dean/Benny but it takes a while to come about. Dean/Jo is there for other reasons (you'll see when you get there). IF: you are reading this for other characters, you will be slightly disappointed. It's very much a Dean-centric fic that becomes Dean/Benny-centric. But it's not just smut, there's a whole lot more going on, like the entire rebellion.
> 
> More tags and characters might be added as I go along. Also: this thing is a monster. It's already at 30k and I have maybe three more chapters before I'm finished. All typos are my fault, if you see one, please let me know and it'll be caught and shot. Happy Hunger Games!

Second to last reaping, Dean thought to himself. One more year and he wouldn’t have to do this anymore. Two more years and Cas would be out, then another five for Sammy. He didn’t like those odds. He never liked the odds.

No, he had to stop thinking like that. Just get through the day. Get through the day and life would go back to normal for a year.

He stood quietly with the other boys of District 7 as Bettina, their district escort, rattled off the Treaty of Treason like they did every year. Usually it was the mayor’s job, but Mayor Burn Woodard passed away yesterday in an accident during the yearly mill inspection. It was so sudden, the Capitol hadn’t sent an interim mayor to hold the position while they had elections, the only thing around here that was semi-honest. Bettina trilled about how happy she was to take up the responsibility, joking about how she should do it every year! The living victors standing on the platform behind her rolled their eyes.

“And now,” she said, finally stepping towards the reaping balls. “For the Tributes. Ladies first!”

She reached her skinny, orange-ish hand into the gleaming ball and pulled out a slip of paper. Dean’s eyes were firmly locked on the other ball, the one for the boys. He wasn’t too worried for himself or his brother. It was just them and their father and they managed to feed themselves pretty well. They didn’t need to take the Capitol’s grain to stay alive. Dean had six entries, the average amount for a seventeen-year old, and Sam had two. There was no way they were going to get picked. Dean’s best friend Cas though...

Cas was another story. His dad ran out on him and his seven siblings shortly after their mother died. While Cas wasn’t the oldest, a few of his brothers had outgrown the reapings and were no longer eligible for the tassera. It was up to him to take one to help keep their family alive. And then another the next year, then two the next... At sixteen, Dean figured Cas had his name in the reaping twenty times. Cas was never very forward about how many times he’d taken the tessera. Life was a little easier in 7 than some of the other districts, but feeding, clothing and supporting a family of eight was not the easiest thing, even with his older brothers pulling in salaries from the forests and the mill.

“Joanna Harvelle!” Bettina announced. Dean cringed inside. Jo was a friend. But she was also daughter and stepdaughter of two victors. Of course she was picked.

Victors’ children were reaped all too often for it to be random. Her mother, Ellen, won the games thirty some-odd years ago, a few years after her second husband, Bobby won his. Bobby was a family friend of Dean’s father. He had an accident a few years ago that put him in a wheelchair, but he was still as fiery as ever. So was Ellen. Her first husband and Jo’s father died in the mill when Jo was just a baby. She married Bobby a few years ago. Dean didn’t understand why she did it. Victors’ kids already got reaped more often, but the daughter of one victor and the stepdaughter of another? Ellen sealed Jo’s fate the day she married Bobby. Well, at least they had a chance of winning this year. Jo was tough as nails, and a little crazy to boot. Those kind usually had an edge in the games.

Head held high, Jo walked up to the stage and stood next to Bettina. Her mother was right behind her, holding back tears. There was time for that later in private. Now, with the cameras rolling, Ellen had to be the tough victor and Jo had to be the tough tribute. Dean witnessed this scene a few times in his life during the playbacks of other districts’ reapings.

Bettina asked for volunteers—there were none, it hardly ever happened in 7—and Dean tuned her out. Even though Jo was picked, he still nudged Cas. “Not your sister,” he said. Anna was two years older than Cas and this was her last Reaping. The game of Russian roulette with her life was over, the last chamber empty.

“Yes.” Cas had what Dean liked to call “the Great Stone Face” going. He was obviously sad about Jo, but now they were all worried for him. Cas was old beyond his years and plenty capable of raising a family, but Dean knew for a fact he would die in the Games. He was fit enough, but too cerebral. When he should be working, he was locked inside his head thinking about the bee hives at home, or his youngest brother’s schooling. Dean had seen him nearly lose a hand to an ax because he was thinking instead of watching his logging partner. In the arena, he’d be ranking the efficiency of three different plans and get his head chopped off by another tribute. Cas was strong, but he’d never make it out alive.

“Gentlemen next!” Bettina announced.

Dean brought his attention back to the reaping. Don’t call Cas, don’t call Cas, he thought to himself.

“Gadreel Novak!” Bettina called out.

The whole town started muttering. A few people shook their heads. No one liked when it was a twelve-year-old. This one just happened to be Cas’ youngest brother.

Cas stood frozen next to him and Dean could practically hear his mind whirring. Thinking of everything he'd done, how many times he took a tessera to keep exactly this from happening. And here it was, the absolute worst thing Cas ever imagined.

They watched in horror as Gadreel stumbled to the stage. Only twelve, he was tall and looked about fifteen. This comforted no one. In the whole history of the Hunger Games, the youngest victor was thirteen. And that had only happened once. The odds were not in Gadreel’s favor.

“Are there any volunteers?” Bettina asked.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Cas’ mouth opened. Dean knew what he was going to do, and he also knew he couldn’t let Cas do it.

The words bypassed Dean’s brain and went right to his lips. “I volunteer!” No one in the crowd seemed to react, so he said it again, “I volunteer!” The muttering got a little louder.

“Dean, no!” Cas grabbed his arm and it took all he had to shove it away.

“Cas, Cas, shut up. Let me go.” He grabbed Cas’ wrist and wrenched it off his arm.

“Dean!”

“Shut up, Cas!” He pushed through the crowd of sixteens to eighteens and started towards the stage. Past the staring eyes of the whole district and towards Bettina’s smile. Worst of all: towards Jo and her mother.

Victors acted as mentors to the tributes. Ellen was one of the best. Nine out of ten years she served as mentor, her tributes made it to the final eight. Five of those years, her tributes became victors. And now, one of her tributes was her half crazy, strong as hell daughter. Who also happened to be Dean’s friend.

The odds were not in his favor.

No, it didn’t matter. He was tough too, and had more than his share of crazy. Give him a set of boot spikes and a few axes, he could kill twenty-three people. That’s why it had to be him. Cas was the only one of his siblings who could volunteer for Gadreel and Dean wouldn’t let him. Cas was smart, smart enough to be someone. Manage at the mills, hell, maybe even mayor one day. Give him a few years and Cas could set his family up for life, as good of a life as anyone had here. And he sure as hell couldn’t do that if he died in the arena.

Dean didn’t just volunteer for his best friend’s little brother, he volunteered for Cas. To give him the best life he deserved.

“How lovely!” Bettina said as she positioned him on the stage next to Jo. Gadreel ran from the stage, head down, not looking at Dean. Cas was waiting in the crowd and grabbed his brother, burying his face in his hair to keep from showing his tears. “And what is your name, dear?”

Dean cleared his throat, more to chase away the lump starting to form there. “Dean Winchester.”

“And, why did you volunteer?”

The lump was gone now. Dean stared out at the crowd, his resolve harder than the hardest oak. “Because I can win.”

“Lovely!” Bettina said again. “I present the Tributes from District Seven! Joanna Harvelle and Dean Winchester. May the odds be ever in your favor!”

 


	2. Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby rattled off pieces of advice in no real order. It ranged from what to do in the Games, to how to answer interview questions, to the “idjit” stylists. “There’s more,” he said. “We’ll talk about it in the next few days. Mainly, just stay alive. And stay the hell away from Jo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm keeping as close to the books as possible, but whatever wasn't mentioned there, I'm taking a bit of license with. Bobby and Ellen are just two mentors from District 7. As I understand it, with multiple victors, they can choose when they want to mentor. Since Haymitch is the only victor from 12, he's stuck doing it every year.
> 
> The Hunger Games wiki says District 7 is considered one of the "richer" districts. I took this to mean in regards to food. Not everyone is starving, but there's nowhere the kind of luxury as in the Capitol.

Dean heard shouting out in the hall. It sounded like Bobby. “I’m gonna kill that kid!”

“You can’t,” Dean’s father, John, said, his voice a little lower. More... restrained. “The Peacekeepers will kill you for trying to hurt a tribute.”

“Oh yeah, because they’ve got so long to live.”

“No, Bobby,” John said. “You’re not seeing him. You’ve got days with him before the Games start, this might be the last time—”

Dean didn’t take it personally that his dad didn’t think he’d win—which, he would, he was definitely going to win—the whole situation was so raw. He needed a minute to process.

“Oh, you know he’ll be fine,” Bobby spat.

“Not with Jo in the mix.” His father wasn’t wrong there. Any other year, Dean would have the Games sewn up, an even match against the biggest Career from 1 or 2. Jo was a different story. In a way, she was his only real competition. That made things... sticky.

“That’s exactly why I want to kill him!” Another fair point. With Jo as tribute, there was no way Ellen wasn’t going to mentor this year. While it should be against the rules, the Capitol audience ate shit like that up, so the Gamemakers let it go on. And with Dean in the Games, there was no way Bobby was staying here. The only way to the Capitol was as a mentor. In saving his friend, Dean pit some of the most important people in his life against each other. He didn’t think about that.

“Shut up, Bobby!” Sam’s voice cracked and Dean’s heart broke. Bobby meant the world to his brother, almost like a second father. This must be tearing the kid apart. Another thing he didn’t think through. “I want to see my brother! You get to see him all you like before... before...”

Silence from outside the door. Then, a gruff voice said, “Alright kid. You two go, have your time.” The squeak of Bobby’s wheelchair got farther and farther away.

The door opened and Sam and John walked in. “Dean!” Sam lunged at him, almost knocking them over. Only thirteen, Sam was growing like a weed and his long arms wrapped all the way around Dean to squeeze him tight.

“Sam,” he tried to say, the word coming out more as air. “Sammy, if you crush my ribs, they’ll arrest you.”

“Oh.” His hug loosened, but he did not let go. Dad would probably have to pry the kid away. Another thing Dean was not looking forward to.

John stepped up to his sons and put a hand on their shoulders. “Dean. Tell me you can win this?”

Dean looked straight into his father’s eyes. “I will win this.” Not can, _will_. Of all the things he was sure about in life, this was one of them.

“Say it again,” John said. His eyes were welling just enough for Dean to notice. This wasn’t some sort of positive thinking exercise, his dad needed the reassurance.

“I will win.” If there was a truer thing in the world, Dean didn’t know it. He was coming home from these Games.

John squeezed his shoulder, his eyes watering a little more. “Good.” He leaned down and wrapped his arms around both his sons.

They didn’t speak, didn’t need to. For the rest of their allotted time, they all stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms. Dean breathed in the smells of his brother’s hair, his father’s leather jacket, the smells of home. Yes, he was going to come back from these Games, he just didn’t know the kind of person he’d be when he did.

All too soon, the Peacekeepers ushered them out and closed the doors again. They opened up a minute later and Cas rushed in, Gadreel by his side. Like Sam, Gadreel was big for his age. Wide shoulders and large muscles made him a shoo-in for the forests when he was old enough to work. If he made it through the next six reapings. Dean could only help this once.

He crashed into Dean and actually knocked him back. “I’m sorry!” he mumbled, face buried in Dean’s chest.

Dean caught himself on the back of a sofa and pushed them to a standing position. He pat the kid on the back. “It’s alright.”

Eyes shining with tears looked up at him. “You shouldn’t have volunteered for me!”

“He’s right,” Cas’s low voice rumbled. Dean looked up and saw the anger burning in his best friend’s eyes for the first time. “It wasn’t for you to volunteer for my family. I should be the—”

“Fuck that, Cas!” Dean spat. “You’d never last. We both know it. Besides,” his voice softened, “you do more good here. What’s gonna happen to Naomi, or Gabe if you die, huh?”

“Balthazar or Michael would have—”

Again, he cut Cas off. “You brothers are good guys, but they can’t do as much for the family as you can.” He reached out and hooked his hand around the back of Cas’ neck, pulling him close until their foreheads touched. “You’re smart enough to _be_ someone. I didn’t just volunteer for Gadreel, I volunteered for you, to give you a chance to make a better life for you and the kids. Okay?”

Cas closed his eyes, tears squeezing out from under the dark lashes. “Alright,” he said. “What about Jo?”

“You let me worry about Jo.” And boy did he have a lot to worry about.

Cas nodded again. He stepped back and wiped his eyes. “I fear, I’ll never be able to thank you.”

“Never take another tessera and we’ll call it square.”

“Deal.”

“Dean!” Gadreel said. Dean focused back on him. For a second, he almost forgot he was there, as much as you could forget the overly large preteen standing two inches from your chest. “I want you to have this.” Fumbling with the cord around his neck, Gadreel pulled out an amulet, a small bronze face on a leather cord. He put it around Dean’s neck before he managed a protest. “It’s a forest god, it’ll protect you.”

“Gad.” Dean sighed, his voice soft. “I can’t take this. It’s from your dad.” That no good low life who left his eight children to fend for themselves. It wasn’t even like they could hunt him down and make him come home. Dean and John and Bobby tried. Back before that tree fell on Bobby, they all marched into the woods with their axes, looking for the bastard, ready to explain a thing or two about responsibility. Except, they couldn’t find him. Even in the vast woods of District 7, there were only so many safe places to hide. But he just disappeared. Dean privately hoped he was dead, killed by a bear for his crimes against family.

Still, Gadreel loved that stupid thing, even if it came from an asshole. “Please? Take it as your token. A forest god—the Capitol will love that, that, folksiness. It’ll get you sponsors.”

Eh, what could it hurt? He’d just give it back when he returned. “Thanks.” He managed a smile and Gadreel’s face lit up. He didn’t have any other token in mind, so he guessed there was no harm in it.

Again, the Peacekeepers came all too soon to pull them away. When Gadreel finally let Dean go, Cas took his place. Surprisingly strong arms held him tight, Cas’ mouth pressed right against his ear. “I know you don’t like it, but I’ll pray for you.”

Then he was gone, tearful face cast down so he didn’t have to take what he thought might be his last look at his best friend. Dean didn’t take it personally. Like his dad, they all knew just how deadly Jo was. But Dean knew he’d come back. He knew everyone here was safe. Now, it was time to worry about himself and how he might have to kill Jo. He didn’t like that.

The next half hour passed in a blurr. One second, Peacekeepers were leading him to the train station and he was waving mechanically at the crowd. He saw the faces of Cas and Gad, Sam and their dad. He was going to see them again, there simply was no other option. Next thing he knew, they were on the train speeding towards the Capitol. Their district was right next to the Capitol and they’d be there in a matter of hours. While the other tributes, like those poor bastards from 12, had a whole day to stew, they’d be getting settled first off. It was yet another advantage Dean would grab with both hands.

As soon as Bettina was through yammering at them and returned to her rooms, Bobby whirled his chair around to stop Dean in his tracks. “What in the hell were you thinking, boy?” he shouted. “I outta kill you right here and now for pullin’ somethin’ like that! Only idjit Careers from One and Two volunteer!”

“And Four,” Jo added. Dean had to hide his smile. At least Jo was taking this well.

“Joanna Beth Harvelle, you hush up right now!” Ellen snapped. Jo ducked her head. As brave and tough as she was, only an idiot back sassed Ellen. Despite what Bobby might think, Dean was not an idiot.

She looked at him and her face softened, but only as much as she could, staring at her daughter’s potential murderer. “Dean, honey, why did you volunteer?”

Her voice was soft now and Dean heard all the words she wanted to say, but couldn’t. Why did he volunteer to be in the Games with her daughter? Ever since Ellen and Bobby got married, she was like a mother to him and Sam. They were over at their house all the time, hanging out with Jo, sharing old stories. After Bobby got hurt, John started going over more often to fix things for them. Sam and Dean tagged along to help, fixing loose floorboards, repairing a broken window, whatever was needed. They were family. And Dean just volunteered to possibly kill her daughter. He knew how that looked.

Alright, he was only going to say this once and here it was. “I couldn’t let Cas volunteer for his brother. I was right next to him, he was gonna do it. I stand a better chance in the Games than he does.” His eyes flicked up to Jo. “I’m gonna win these Games, but I promise, I will not kill you, Jo. I pity the bastard who tries, but know it won’t be me.” He was taking a huge risk by saying that. And he was putting himself at a huge disadvantage. What if it came down to just them? It happened a few years ago, the final two were both from district One. Even the Games hungry people of One couldn’t over look one of their tributes killing the other. No matter what it cost him, that was the line Dean wouldn’t cross.

“Thanks,” Jo said. She didn’t return the promise. She didn’t need to, though, this was Dean’s decision, not her’s.

Bobby rubbed a hand across his tired face, which suddenly looked years older. “We’re mentoring you two separately. There will be no arguing with that.”

“Okay,” Dean and Jo said.

Without another word, Ellen took Jo’s hand and led her off to another part of the train. Dean and Bobby stayed put. “So,” Dean said. “Got any advice?”

Bobby sighed, his hand balling into a fist. Dean knew he wanted nothing more than to smack him upside the head. But Bobby was his mentor, it was his job to keep him alive, just as it was Ellen’s job to keep Jo alive. “There’s three days of training before you show the Gamemakers what you can do. During those three days, don’t you lay a single hand on an ax or a machete. Don’t even climb a tree. Don’t show off what you can do, leave the other tributes guessing. Learn something new—learn everything you can. You never know what’s in the arena. Pay attention to the edible plants station, sometimes that’ll tip you off on what’s comin’.”

For the rest of the trip, Bobby rattled off pieces of advice in no real order. It ranged from what to do in the Games, to how to answer interview questions, to the “idjit” stylists. “There’s more,” he said just as they entered the tunnel leading to the Capitol. “We’ll talk about it in the next few days. Mainly, just stay alive. And stay the hell away from Jo.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cas' siblings from oldest to youngest: Michael, Raphael, Balthazar, Anna, Cas, Naomi, Gabriel, Gadreel.


	3. The Arena

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean turned his attention to the cornucopia. There, he saw it: a backpack with not one, but two axes hanging off it. It might have anything inside, but Dean needed those axes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll notice some chapter titles match up with the books. This wasn't intentional, but I was still trying to get "the flavor" of the series. Also, mostly the first book, is told through flashbacks of Katniss thinking about something that led her to one particular moment. I tried to do that, again, to match the tone and flavor of the books.

The next few days passed at whirlwind speed. One second, they were on the train, the next, he was being shuffled through his make over. His stylist made comments about him like he wasn’t even there. “Handsome, good! A few scars—let’s leave those for the Games? Gives him a bit of an edge! But the stubble must go!” Then, he was stuffed into a tree costume, pushed into a chariot and told to smile and wave at the crowd. He did this. “We present the Tributes of the 63rd Annual Hunger Games!” a loudspeaker whined. The crowd went wild.

It seemed like minutes later, he was in the Training Center, at dinner with Jo and Ellen and Bobby, his tree costume forgotten on the floor of his room. “Eat as much as you can,” Bobby said as he piled a plate high and handed it to Dean. “We don’t want much for food in Seven, but the Careers will still be better fed than you. Put on as much weight as you can now. You’ll lose it plus more once you get into the arena.”

“Exactly,” Ellen said. She loaded up a similar amount of food on a plate and placed it in front of Jo. They might be mentoring them separately, but this seemed to be some point of shared common sense. Dean never argued with food and dug in.

“That’ll be their downfall,” Ellen said. “They don’t know how to be hungry. Even you two are old enough to remember a few lean winters.”

Dean’s stomach growled just at the thought. It was the winter after their mother died, Sammy was barely two years old, his cheeks hollow with hunger. By all rights, he should still have some pudgy baby fat clinging to his limbs, but not this year. He wouldn’t have enough fat on him for three more years after that. Dean would never forget the sight of his half starving baby brother as their dad tried to make soup from snow, pine and a few other edible plants. Until the thaw brought back the deliveries from the Capitol, it was never enough. They almost lost Sam that winter.

He grabbed more mashed potatoes and continued eating. The night before the Games, the scale in the stupidly large bathroom proclaimed he gained seven pounds. Good enough, he guessed.

Dean blinked and suddenly, he was up to the interviews. Bobby wasn’t good at the publicity part and Bettina made herself surprisingly helpful. “You’re an attractive young man,” she said. “And you have this sort of...” She flapped her hands around her head, staring Dean right in the eye. He didn’t think she’d looked him in the eye once this whole time, not even at the reaping. “Brooding intensity.” She shook herself, like she just realized she was lusting after a seventeen-year-old.

“Brooding intensity?” Bobby repeated. He looked Dean up and down, then shrugged. “That’ll work.”

“Sure,” Dean grunted. He was pretty sure he could pull that off. It was... kinda his personality. Being himself on stage, that was a no brainer, at least.

“Now remember,” Bobby said. “Flickerman might look like a clown,” especially the year his face was painted all white with his lips outlined in bright red, “but he’s there to help you. He wants to make you look good. Let him.”

“Got it.”

They sat in silence for a while. Bettina excused herself, leaving Dean alone with Bobby for the first time in days. Yes, they had their private mentoring sessions, but there was always someone around. An attendant to serve them food, Bettina to chip in commentary from the sides, or when his stylist dropped by with new clothes he simply must try on. For the first time since the train, it was just them.

“Bobby,” Dean whispered. Sitting on the couch in his Capitol tailored suit, he didn’t feel like himself. Probably never would again. He was ready to say goodbye to the old him, in fact, he already did that when he said goodbye to Cas. Now, he needed to know the most basic thing for the arena, the question he was afraid to ask. “How do I kill twenty-two people?” Not twenty-three, not Jo, he would keep that promise until the day he died. Which might be sooner than he hoped.

Bobby leaned over in his chair and pulled a hip flask from under his leg. He unscrewed the top and took a long swig before answering. “My Games, I imagined they were all trees, and their blood was sap.” Another drink.

“Did that... work?”

He nodded, not meeting Dean’s eyes. “In the arena, sure. After...” He took another drink and smiled an empty smile. “This helps more now-a-days.”

“Got it,” he said again.

~

Dean blinked under the lights of the stage. Caesar Flickerman stood next to him, microphone in hand. “So, Dean,” he said. “You volunteered.”

“Yes, I did.” He tried to look out over the audience like he was judging them, or something, but the lights blinded him. He only hoped he looked brooding enough for Bettina.

“You don’t get a lot of volunteers in your district. Why’d you do it?”

He didn’t know what to say, at first. People saw the reaping, saw him go up for a young boy. Still, no one needed to know he did it for his best friend’s brother. He kind of didn’t want the Capitol to know. Instead, he straightened his back and looked out at the crowd again. “Because I can win.”

A great roar met his ears and Dean managed a smile. He knew he was making himself a target, even more than his ten training score. He didn’t care. Let them come.

Caesar laughed and clapped him on the back. “I’m sure you will! And what is your strategy? There is some pretty fierce competition this year, especially from your very own district.” That’s right, Jo got a training score of ten as well. That put them both up there with the Careers.

Dean smiled, playing along. Of course Caesar wasn’t looking for his actual strategy, he was only trying to help. Get some juicy tidbit to bring in the sponsors. “I’m just gonna think of the other tributes as trees, and their blood is sap. Between you an’ me, Caesar, I’ve cut down a lot of trees.”

Caesar laughed. “Thank you, Dean! Dean Winchester, ladies and gentlemen, the woodsman from District Seven!”

The next morning, it was time for the Games. Even with all the prep, all the training, the reaping, everything, Dean was having trouble figuring out if it was real or not. What were the odds that this was all a giant dream?

“Don’t forget your token!” his stylist said.

“Oh. Right.” Dean ducked his head and let her put the little amulet around his neck. He stared down at it. The old forest god looked back at him, the little bronze eyes dull but deep. Then, he remembered the boy who gave it to him, and more importantly, the boy standing behind him with the sad blue eyes. No, this wasn’t a dream. All their years together, Dean knew all of Cas’ faces. He and Sammy had fun mimicking a few of them. But he’d never forget those tears welling in his eyes. This was real. Head held high, he stepped onto the disk that would lift him into the arena.

The slow rise started and the sky opened up overhead. Bright sunlight shined down on the field with the tributes and the large gold cornucopia. The trees around them, the grass, the smell on the air, even the heat all said: summer. That was it? Summer? The arenas always had some kind of trick or gimmick. This wasn’t a very good one.

Another look around told the story. The large clearing was warm, a little on the hot side. But at the edge of the clearing where the trees started, the colors changed almost immediately. Reds, oranges, and browns covered the ground, a few half-dead leaves clinging to the branches of mostly bare trees. Off to the other side, completely bare limbs and frost met his eyes, then piles of snow. And directly behind him, the sweet smell of flowering trees covered with leaves and new buds. All four seasons were represented in sections of this arena.

Dean turned his attention to the cornucopia. As usual, most of the weapons were piled at the mouth, with more supplies scattered on the ground. And there, he saw it: a backpack with not one, but two axes hanging off it. It might have anything inside, but Dean needed those axes. He’d only have to fight Jo for them, and there was the problem. Jo. He would keep his promise not to kill her, but the possibility of it coming down to just them had crossed his mind. If it came to that... well, he’d figure it out later.

Jo was only two tributes away from him, and she was not looking at the cornucopia. Instead, her head was towards the winter section of the arena. She was planning on running, hiding in the snow where no one else would go. Smart. But Dean needed those axes, it was the only way he’d win this. And he was going to win.

The cannon sounded and they were free. Dean leapt off his plate and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. Get to the axes, turn tail and run, get to the axes, turn tail and run. The mantra ran inside his head even as he ducked a knife thrown by a Career who was a little bit faster than him. It didn’t matter. One of the gleaming silver axes was right there within arm’s reach. He opened his hand and grabbed for it.

Just as his fingers closed around the ax handle, another knife struck him in the back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My boyfriend used to wrestle in high school and I asked him what was a reasonable amount of weight for a teenager to gain in a week if they had ample food and were exercising. He said seven lbs. It doesn't say explicitly in the books, but I clocked their time before the Games as about a week. One day for remake and the chariots, three days of training, one day for their private scores, and the last night for their interviews.


	4. Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jo!” Dean hissed, keeping his voice low. “What the hell! Bobby told me to stay away from you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Games are in full swing now. Like I said, Dean's Games won't be the focus of this fic, but I do have a few chapters to show what it was like for him.
> 
> Any mistakes are my fault, if you find a typo, please include it with your comment and it'll be caught and shot.

“You are one lucky son of a bitch.” He’d heard Bobby say it dozens of times. The time he fell from a tree twenty feet up and walked away without a scratch, or when Sammy was playing under a tree and a Trackerjacker hive fell. If Dean was one second slower, his little brother would be dead right now. Thankfully, he got to him in time and pushed him out of the way, dunking them both into the nearby pond. Trackerjackers might be mutations, but they hated water just as much as regular wasps.

Yes, Dean was luckier than most. Especially now when the knife thrown by another tribute only hit his shoulder and bounced off the hard seam of the denim jackets they gave them. He’d have a bruise, maybe. Up side, now he had two axes and a knife. And whatever was in the backpack.

He high tailed it out of there. The pack of murderous Careers was too distracted by the loot and the few easy pickings tributes still in the clearing. Dean made it to the spring section and up into a tree before they even knew he was gone. Climbing was a little harder without his boot spikes but he managed. The spring section would probably be mobbed soon enough and he had to move fast. Only Jo was crazy enough to go to the winter section and even the most anti-nature kid from District 3 knew the fall section was not nearly enough cover and made them too easy to follow. That was his plan: camp out in the trees in the fall section and wait for the crunching of leaves to tell the tale.

Inside the bag was a canteen, three packages of crackers, and—Dean couldn’t believe his eyes—boot spikes. He knew it! This bag was meant for him.

All through training, he did what Bobby told him and stayed away from the axes and climbing stations. He suspected Jo was given similar instructions when he saw her completely ignore them as well. In his private training session, that was his time to shine. He strapped a pair of spikes to his boots and climbed the rope wall using nothing but the spikes and an ax to get him to the top. Once there, he threw five little hatchets into five training dummies, decapitating or mortally wounding every single one. To finish, he jumped down from the wall, pulled a machete from his belt and rolled across the room, taking the head off the last dummy. He even got some applause.

After he told Bobby, the old man shook his head. “Ya did good, kid. The Gamemakers gotta be crazy not to put an ax in there after that.” And so they did. With these axes in his hands, Dean knew he was unstoppable. Now his biggest hope was that someone else killed Jo.

While he knew that’s where she’d be, Dean went through the tree tops, making his way to the winter section. He didn’t see any water sources from up there and he knew he could melt snow for drinking water at the very least. So that was the plan: fill the canteen with snow, get back into the trees and wait until the battle at the cornucopia was over. Figure out who was left and go from there.

The canteen was almost full when a twig snapped behind him. Ax in hand, he whirled around. Jo smirked at him and he almost threw the ax to teach her a lesson. Almost.

“Jo!” he hissed, keeping his voice low. “What the hell! Bobby told me to stay away from you!”

“Mom told me the same thing.” Still, she stepped toward him. Dean’s grip tightened on his ax. He wouldn’t kill her but he wasn’t above throwing the ax as a distraction and running. Two axes were better than one, one was still better than none. He could do a lot of damage with one. “The Careers are going to claim the spring and summer sections.” So she noticed the seasons too. “Forcing everyone else into fall or winter. I’ve got winter and you know better than to come here for anything other than water. You probably don’t want all those people crowding you in the fall section, making you easier to find.”

Damnit, she already knew his plan. It was probably her backup plan. “So,” Dean said when she didn’t continue. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, both of us together can thin the Career pack. Then you can take the spring and go on hunting everyone else. I’ll come back here and kill anyone who tries to take the snow for water.”

Dean had to admit, between the two of them, they were more than a match for the Careers. But... “What if it comes down to you and me, Jo? I meant what I said, I won’t kill you. Taking out anyone who stands a chance against you seems like exactly how we get into that situation.”

Jo bit her lip. “My mom says I’m stupid, but I told her I won’t kill you either. Not unless it comes down to just us. I never asked you to make that promise to me, Dean.”

“I know. I didn’t do it for you.” He did it for Bobby and any time he’d have to be over there. He didn’t want to see the sadness in Ellen’s eyes when he went to her house for comfort. He’d seen other victors besides Ellen and Bobby. It didn’t always end well. What if he became one of those sad people? Addicted to morphling or so stinking drunk he couldn’t function. The victor from the last Quarter Quell, Haymitch Abernathy. Still in the prime of his life and he drowned himself in alcohol. They saw it at the Games every year. Dean didn’t want to be like that and it seemed the only way to avoid it was to have friends, other victors to guide you through it and help you survive. That was never going to happen if he killed Jo.

“So what d’ya say? Your axes, my knives, and we hunt ourselves some Careers.”

“Knives?” Jo held up the bag clutched in her hand. Close enough for Dean to see, not to possibly take and run.

Shining up at him were twenty perfect throwing knives. While everyone in 7 knew how to throw an ax, knives were something else. The weight was too different. Dean knew how in a pinch, but he wouldn’t depend on it to save his life. Still, there was a knife club in town that met in secret. Ellen helped start it. Sure, it was illegal, but the life of a victor could be boring. Even at her age, Ellen liked living on the edge. Of course Jo could throw knives. How she got them was the more interesting question, especially after she ran away from the cornucopia.

“In my private training, I went right for these and hit every target in that damn training center. I knew if I impressed them enough, there’d be a bag of knives waiting for me.”

“Same here.” Dean opened his bag and showed her the climbing spikes. “I went straight up the rope wall with nothin’ but spikes and an ax. They’d be idiots not to give me these.” Yeah, training sessions were supposed to be secret but Dean was one hundred percent positive they were not the focus of the cameras right now. Not with the blood bath going on at the cornucopia.

Jo chuckled. “Damn right.”

They compared their weapons and silently agreed that this was a terrible plan, going over exactly how this could all go wrong. And the question still hung there between them: were they going to do it anyways? Part of Dean wanted to say no, bid Jo good luck and head the other way. He looked down at his ax and her knives, and shook his head. “What the hell? Let’s go kill some Careers.”

“They’re just like trees,” Jo said.

Dean nodded. “What’s the plan?”

“Wait until the blood bath is over and they start sorting their spoils. They’ll be distracted and worn out.”

“Sounds good. Who’s in the Career pack?” Obviously Jo did some spying before coming to Dean. Maybe during training? With Bobby and Ellen, Dean had more knowledge on what life was like for a tribute than most, and Jo probably knew more than he did. She definitely knew what to look for where alliances were concerned.

“Both from One and Two, the girl from Four.”

Dean honestly couldn’t remember most of them. He remembered the tributes from 1 showing off with swords during training, the boy from 2 had a thing for bow and arrow, but that’s all he knew. “Five,” he said. “We can take five.”

Jo smiled wide. “You bet we can.”

The Careers never saw it coming. Really, Dean had never seen such a beautiful example of the phrase “sitting ducks,” not even when it came to actual ducks.

Hiding in the trees, Jo let two knives fly. One hit a Career in the neck, killing him instantly. The other missed its mark only by a little, burying itself in the eye of the girl from 2. It might not kill her now, but give it a few days. After infection set in, she’d be dead.

Once Jo started, their cover was blown. Dean had to act fast. Jumping down from the trees, he sprinted across the field, slowed a bit by the spikes, but he still managed to get there. The girl from 4 whirled around, jabbing her spear at Dean. Dean dropped to the ground at the last second and shoved his boot spikes into her stomach. Fancy spear or not, there was no surviving a gut wound, not in the arena.

Kicking the girl away, Dean got to his feet and started swinging. The girl from 2 was stumbling around, holding her eye and screaming. Dean took off her head. He looked up to see another knife hit the boy from 1 right in the heart. The last Career, the girl tribute from 1, took off into the woods of the fall section.

It was so quick, Dean almost didn’t believe it. Four Careers dead, on day one, less than twelve hours into the Games. That must be some sort of record.

He and Jo had to clear away for a moment while the hovercrafts came in and collected the bodies. Then, without a word, they headed straight for the cornucopia. Dean found two machetes, one more ax, a bunch of small hatchets, and another pair of climbing spikes. He spotted a coil of rope and took that too, looping it over his shoulder. There was a lot he could do with rope. He stuffed whatever fit into the backpack, along with as much dried food as he could find and another canteen.

Done stocking, he turned around to find Jo doing the same. Her body gleamed with many silver knives tucked into pockets, even one hidden behind her ear. She held a thick jacket in her hands too. It looked thermal, good for the winter area she was so keen on occupying. For better or worse, they were both going to do well in these Games.

“We should probably split up now,” Jo said. Dean was glad she suggested it. He didn’t want to be the asshole who left Jo alone in the arena, even if it was their plan to split up all along.

“Yeah.” He took a step towards her and extended a hand. He wasn’t stupid enough to give her a hug. He hugged her a lot. Any old day in District 7, when he was having a shit day or when she was. Back there, they were friends. But not here. In the arena, all Dean could afford was a handshake.

She switched a knife to her other hand and took his, giving the shortest shake that was still friendly. “Good luck. For your sake, I hope I don’t see your face until it’s in the sky.”

“Same here.” They weren’t trying to be mean, it was just the harsh reality of their situation.

Before they went their separate ways, Jo laughed softly and smiled at him. “At least Seven will get a victor this year.” Yes, it definitely would, no question about it now. Four Careers down and with the first blood bath thinning the heard already, there was no way they couldn’t win. If only there was room for both of them...

“If it can’t be me, I want it to be you,” Dean said.

“Same here.” And with that, Jo took off running. Back to the winter section where she could hide in a tree and pick off anyone who tried to use the snow for water. If Dean didn’t find a different water source, he might be forced back there. Then they’d see how their promises held up.

He reoriented himself and took off for the spring section. With the Careers dead or scared off, he now had the pick of the best spots. The summer section was tempting, but Dean wasn’t about to camp right next to the fucking cornucopia. He wanted to win and that did not involve making himself a target. The two remaining Careers would be back. Without Jo... he didn’t think he had a chance alone.

He managed to find a spot in the spring section that bordered two others. He had immediate access to summer—should he need more supplies from the cornucopia—and the winter section—should he not be able to find water on his own. It also gave him a decent view of fall. The near-bare trees over there made it easy to spot other tributes walking amongst the leaves. So did the blue denim jackets. They weren’t too bright, but next to a sea of red and orange, they made you stick out.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a deer casually strolling through the woods. While his first instinct was to kill it for food (he saw a camp stove back at the cornucopia, he wouldn’t even have to light a fire) the more rational part of his brain told him to wait it out, see where it went. Lo and behold, the poor thing led him right to a spring. It was a little thing and he had no way to test the water, but when the deer bent its head to drink, he figured it was safe.

Being as quiet as possible, he removed one of the small hatchets from his bag and threw it at the deer. His aim was a little off. He hit the back flank, which sent the thing running at a stumble, easy to catch. Dean shook his head and readied his ax. Using the flat of the head, it only took one swift knock to the head to kill the poor thing. They didn’t have to hunt often in 7, and Dean never had much stomach for it. The thought of seeing an animal like that...

You just killed two people, the voice in the back of his head said. Suddenly, a deer bothers you?

Dean shook it off and grabbed the animal. He cleaned it as fast as he could, took what he needed and left the rest under the trees far away from the water. No need to pollute his new water source. With the camp stove liberated from the cornucopia, he cooked the meat, watching over his shoulder the whole time. The camp stove wasn’t as bad as a fire, but there were still two Careers out there, probably gunning for him.

He hid the camp stove and returned to a tree near the spring, eating his small meal of venison and some of the dried fruit from the cornucopia. It was as much as he’d get any day back home. So far, he wasn’t going too bad in these Games. Now with most of the Careers dead and the first slaughter over, the field was probably pretty narrow. No reason for this to go longer than a few days. Then he’d be home and never have to worry about killing someone ever again.

 


	5. The Rock Slide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That first night, ten faces filled the sky. For some reason, Dean thought there’d be more, as if ten dead kids wasn’t enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: major character death in this chapter.
> 
> We've come to the end of Dean's Games, but there's a lot more to go after this. Hope everyone's enjoying so far. All mistakes are my fault. If you see a typo, pop it into a comment and it'll be caught and shot.

Dean might’ve been a little too optimistic about how soon the Games would end. That first night, ten faces filled the sky. Both males from 1 and 2—Jo’s kills—the girl from 2 who took a knife in the eye then Dean finished her off; the boy from 3, probably killed at the first blood bath; the female from 4, Dean’s kill again; the girl from 9; the boy from 10; the girl from 11; and both from 12, they never made it far. Ten tributes in all, ten already gone from the Games in the first day. For some reason, Dean thought there’d be more, as if ten dead kids wasn’t enough.

The days dragged on until it felt like a week had passed. One week inside the arena... and Dean hadn’t hardly seen anyone. The boy from 6 found the spring and Dean buried an ax in his back. That was his plan: stay near the water, let them come to him. Part of him didn’t feel right about it, killing when people’s backs were turned, but he had to get home. There was no other option.

After the boy from 6, he didn’t see anyone for days. Just stayed in his tree, eating the venison and whatever edible plants grew near the spring. He ran out of dried fruit and didn’t want to go back to the cornucopia unless he had to. From time to time he saw a flash of blue running from the cornucopia back into the fall. The male from 4, staking out the summer section, probably waiting for Dean or Jo to return. When he ran out of deer meat, he killed another. It wasn’t easier the second time.

Usually, with no action, the Gamemakers would pull something to force the tributes together. Nothing happened. There was one face in the sky almost every night, so someone was out there killing tributes. Maybe that was enough to keep the Capitol happy and its citizens watching. He never saw Jo’s face, which was a relief and terrifying at the same time.

When they were down to the final eight, Dean figured he’d been in the arena eight days. Not the shortest Games in history, but a lot faster than normal. To him though, it feel like an eternity. Getting down from the tree and leaving his spot to go kill someone might make this end faster, but at what cost? Say he ran into the two remaining Careers? They weren’t exactly going to forget about what he and Jo did to them on day one. So he stayed put, waiting for someone to come into his range.

Day nine. Dean was half dozing in his tree when he heard the scrape of rocks. He snapped awake. The sound continued. Not the real sound a rock slide makes, definitely Capitol manufactured. It got louder and a scream pierced the air. Coming from the winter section.

Dean didn’t think. He jumped down from the tree and ran. His boot spikes stuck in the ground, slowing him a little, but he didn’t care. Jo was in the winter section.

Another sickening slide of rock, louder this time. Dean ran through the snow, towards a cave now half covered in rubble. It was exactly the kind of place Jo might pick: only one way in, easy to run out and kill before ducking back in, safe and covered. A shock of red hair met his eyes, the Career girl from 1. She was standing over Jo, buried in rocks and hardly breathing. She had an ax gripped in her hand.

“I think it’s fitting,” the Career said. “Your district makes your living with an ax. You should die by an ax.”

Dean cocked his shoulder back and let his ax fly, throwing it as hard as he could. Just as the girl lifted her ax, Dean’s slammed right in between her shoulderblades, hitting her spine. The ax fell from her hands and she collapsed, her blood staining the snow red, sightless eyes staring out over the snow. The cannon sounded.

“Jo!” Dean shouted and ran over to her. He yanked his ax from the Career’s back and kept it in one hand, waiting for another ambush.

“Dean.” Her voice was weak, choked by something. Looking at the rubble covering her, she probably had a collapsed lung. It happened sometimes at home, after a nasty fall from a tree, or a wayward log when they were rolling towards the river. Most times, with quick enough action, it wasn’t fatal. Here though... Jo only had a few minutes to live. Maybe less.

“Jo,” Dean whispered. He shifted the rubble as much as he could, paying no mind to the jagged rocks scraping open his hands, and kneeled next to her. “Jo, what happened?”

“The Career...” she gasped out the words, fighting for every breath. “She’s been around here for two days... looking for me. I guess... Gamemakers didn’t want me hiding anymore. They triggered the rock slide.”

“Jo.” It was all he could say. He didn’t expect her to die like this, not in some stupid Capitol made trap to forced them together and into battle. In his mind, Jo always died with her boots on, a knife clutched between her teeth and two more hidden in her shirt. Not like this, not like...

“Dean.” Jo gasped again, words were getting harder. She fumbled for something. Dean moved a few more rocks to free her hand. She held it out to him. “My ring.” It was her token, just a plain wooden band, her father’s wedding ring. Ellen gave it to her on a bracelet, a simple leather cord like Dean’s amulet. “When they take my body... the Capitol won’t know. It’s just wood to them. Take it... take it...”

“I’ll get it back to her.” She didn’t need to say where he needed to take it. Only one other person cared about this ring. Dean worked the bracelet off her wrist and slid the ring onto his finger. It was a large man’s ring or Jo would’ve worn it herself. As soon as he had the time, he’d take it off and put it on the cord with the amulet. “I’ll keep it safe.”

Jo managed a small smile. “Thanks.” Even with the streaks of blood across her face, she was beautiful.

Dean didn’t know what to say. The few times he’d seen a death in the forest, he wasn’t the one comforting the dying. He didn’t know how to do his. “I always thought,” he blurted out. “Back home, after we aged out of the reaping. I thought—”

“Me too.” Jo smiled again.

Yes, that was always the plan, wasn’t it? Once they both dodged the Games and got on with their lives, they’d start courting and get married. They were good together, good friends, they had a lot in common. Everyone seemed to know they were heading that way, while they’d both deny it, on the morning after their last reaping, Dean planed to go to her house. It was one of those things they didn’t say out loud... not even to themselves. And now that was gone too, the Capitol took it all away.

Her breaths were getting harder and harder. He knew she didn’t have long. Dean leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. He didn’t care about the bloody foam leaking at the corner of her mouth. She deserved this, a final goodbye that acknowledged her as something other than a killer in these Games. She was a person, and this was what people did. They fell in love, they laughed, they kissed. Dean could only offer her one of those things.

When he broke away, he smiled down at her, even if he was a little teary. “Honestly? I kinda wanted to you win.”

She choked in another breath, probably her last. “You win for us both.” Not for their district, not for their families, for them. They were all they had in here.

“I promise.”

Jo gasped one last time, then the cannon sounded. Her sightless eyes looked up at Dean. Holding back a sob, he slid them closed. Snowflakes started catching on her eyelashes and for a moment, she looked like an angel, frozen in the snow.

The hovercraft would be here soon to collect the bodies. Dean stood up and started shifting a few more rocks, looking for Jo’s pack and stash of knives. She would want him to have them. Better him than anyone else. He took the ax from the Career’s cold fingers. All the axes in this arena belonged to him now, he’d see to that.

Gathering everything together, he headed away from the rubble of the rock slide. He didn’t want to see them taking her. All the way back to his area of the arena, his fingers rubbed the wedding band, feeling the worn old wood. He guessed this was as close as he’d ever be to knowing what it felt like to have one of these...

That night, when Jo’s face lit up the sky, a new resolve formed. Deep down in Dean’s gut, he knew only he could end these Games. They were down to five now, the girl from 5, the boy from 8, the girl from 10, and the last Career: the boy from 4. That’s how the Gamemakers wanted to end this: him and the male from 4, the only one who was really a match for him. Good. Dean wasn’t about to win his Games by killing some defenseless girl from one of the poorer districts. He’d wait until it was just them, then, he’d take the fight to him.

He had a new reason to get out now, not just to go home to Sam and his dad, and Cas and his family. He had to win for Jo. The only way he’d avenge her was holding the Capitol responsible for her death. It was their rock slide, their fault. One day, he’d repay them for what they did. He’d bury his ax into the skull of the head Gamemaker himself. But first, he had to get out of here. He had to win.

That day came sooner than he expected. The girl from 5 died the following day, then, while Dean was getting water from his spring, he heard it: two cannons. He’d have to wait until tonight to be sure the tribute from 4 was still alive, but that was it. They were the last two.

He finished filling up his canteens and checked over all his weapons. This was ending today, not tomorrow, now. Once he had everything together, he took off towards the cornucopia. The last hovercraft left from that direction, so that’s where he went. In any case, the Career would probably be there anyways, sooner or later. It’s how they were all trained: get to the cornucopia as fast as you can, secure it as yours. No Career held the cornucopia for very long in these Games and Dean was partly to blame for that. Which was exactly why this Career was heading straight for it, no doubt in his mind.

Dean emerged from the trees and there he was, standing at the mouth of the cornucopia, bloody spear clutched in his hand, a net dangling from the other. He smiled. “Knew you’d show up.”

“Knew you’d be here,” Dean said. District 4 was the fishing district so the kid was probably pretty handy with the spear. Dean had to pick his moment carefully. If they both threw their weapons, it was down to who was the better shot. The spear had the advantage of reach in close combat, and Dean didn’t want to get close to this guy, not unless he had to. He just had to make sure he threw his ax before the Career launched his spear.

He looked the guy up and down. He was panting, still tired from the last fight where he took out the other two tributes. Dean was refreshed from the spring and having enough food these past few days. If it was down to speed, Dean had him already.

He saw the guy’s arm cock back and he dropped and rolled. The spear made a giant thunk noise as it stuck itself in a tree. Now the Career was weaponless. Dean stood out of the roll and, using his momentum, he threw his ax as hard as he could.

The scream of air and the splitting of flesh and bone, and that was it. The ax struck him full in the chest. The guy’s voice gurgled as blood filled his esophagus, and he fell back. One last shake and the cannon sounded. Dean did it. He won.

Claudius Tempelsmith’s voice filled the sky. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present the Victor of the 63rd Annual Hunger Games: Dean Winchester of District Seven!” Invisible applause rang through the clearing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keeping track of who killed which tribute from which district was a bitch. Seriously, my hat off to Suzanne Collins.
> 
> And I realized a little too late that I never gave Dean sponsors. It was too much to go back and add them in because I didn't want to wreck the chapter.


	6. After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m sorry, boy. I shoulda told ya. It’s just, I thought—”
> 
> “Jo was going to win?” Dean cut Bobby off, but there was no fire in his words. “Yeah. I did too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long chapter. I thought about breaking it up, but I really wanted to aftermath of the Games and the start of Dean's spiral to go together.
> 
> This might be the end of Dean's Games, but we're not done. Like I said, I'm going all the way up through the rebellion and the end of the books. Enjoy!

Time started to move too fast again. A hovercraft flew into view and Dean was herded inside of it. Doctors poked and prodded at him, seeing how bad of shape he was in. One muttered something like “He’s the best we’ve gotten in years.” Dean wasn’t falling apart, but there were scratches all over him from climbing trees, bruises from more of the same, a few deep cuts on his hands from the rock slide, and he’d lost at least ten pounds, probably more. If they considered this “the best,” he hated to think what the worst was.

He let it all happen, half dazed with the reality of the past two weeks and the stark contrast between the wilds of the arena and the bright, clean hovercraft. One thought looped inside his mind over and over again: he was directly responsible for six deaths in that arena. It wasn’t the largest number any single victor had killed, but it was too many. Already, Dean didn’t know himself anymore. He didn’t know how he could’ve done that, how... They were children. Just like him and Jo. And he killed them.

They gave him food, water, and scrubbed him down. They went to work healing he cuts and erasing his scars. This snapped him out of his stupor. “No!” he shouted, making the prep team back up a step. “Leave them!”

“But,” one of his preps—he never learned their names—said. “Clovia wants a full body buff, take away any scars, old and new.”

Clovia, his stylist. Bobby was right, she was an idiot. “No,” Dean said again. They all stared at him, wide eyed, faces blank. They didn’t understand why anyone would keep their imperfections. In the Capitol, anything not shiny and beautiful was supposed to be broken and beaten into submission until it became shiny and beautiful. They didn’t know any other way. “Scars,” he began slowly, trying to find his words after days of silence in the arena. “Scars mean something in Seven. They tell the... stories, of our lives.”

The one who seemed to be the “manager” of the prep team, gave a nod. “Leave his scars. I’ll speak to Clovia.”

Finally, they let him see Bobby. He half expected Ellen to be there too, a successful winner from 7 was cause for celebration. But then again... Dean really didn’t think she’d want to see him. Not right away. He still wore Jo’s father’s ring around his neck, threaded onto the leather cord with the amulet. He wanted to give it back to Ellen himself, to tell her how sorry he was. Even if he didn’t kill Jo, he still couldn’t help, and that was probably one of the worst things about the Games. There was nothing he could do to save his friend and now he got to think about that every day for the rest of his life.

Bobby wheeled himself over to Dean. They were under the stage, about to go up and start the final ceremony where he’d be crowned. Then he’d have to watch a recap of the Games, see everyone he killed all over again, see Jo. He wasn’t ready for it. Maybe Bobby had some advice on how to get through it. It was good to see the old man, at least.

When he got close to Dean, he didn’t look happy to see him. He grabbed Dean’s arm, gripping him so hard it actually hurt. “We only have a minute. How serious were you about Jo?”

“What?” Dean sputtered. “Bobby, that’s—that’s private.”

“No it ain’t. Nothin’s private anymore, don’t you get it?” He looked older now, the lines on his face somehow deeper. “Tell me! Did you mean what you said?”

Or was he just comforting a dying friend? “Yeah, Bobby. I meant it.”

He gave a sigh of relief. “Good. When you go out there, when Flickerman asks about you and Jo, you go all out: you always liked her, you were sad you were in the Games together, that’s why you agreed not to kill her. You go all in on her, understand?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” Bobby released his arm and Dean rubbed the pain away. “I’ll explain later, I promise. For now, keep it up that you wanted to marry her.”

“Okay, I will.”

“Good boy.” For the first time, Bobby managed a smile. He turned and went to take his place for his entrance on stage.

~

“Now Dean,” Caesar began. They just crowned him and the replay was about to begin. Four hours of hell, but first an interview. The Capitol loved their damn interviews. “We’re all dying to know. What you said to Jo... did that mean what we all thought it meant?” Caesar waggled his eyebrows, like he was asking some sort of deep-down secret. In a way, he kind of was.

Dean steeled himself and nodded. “Yeah. In the back of my mind, I always thought I’d marry Jo. I never told her.” He ducked his head, hoping to hide the tears threatening to spill. “I’m glad about that, at least. That I got tell her... in the end.”

The audience gave an “awww” and a few sobs were heard. On some level, they were probably sad for him. Sad for the love story that never was. But he bet none of them put the blame where it belonged: the Capitol.

“And yet, you volunteered,” Caesar said. “You already knew who the female tribute was. Why did you go if you knew you’d be in against her?”

There was no real way around this. His cocky “because I can win” spiel wouldn’t work any more. So he told as much of the truth as he was comfortable with. “The kid who got picked? He was only twelve. My little brother is thirteen, and I couldn’t help but think...” He shook his head. “He didn’t belong in the Games.” None of us do, he mentally added.

Caesar wiped a tear from his eye and clasped a hand to his heart. “Amazing. Save a child and you have to watch your love die. I’m sorry, Dean Winchester, I truly am.”

“Thank you.” At least Flickerman sounded sincere.

And now, it started. Four hours of watching the highlights of the Games. Dean had to sit through it all, pretending to be unmoved by what he saw. They always had a theme when they edited the footage together, and this year’s theme was him and his ax, starting with Caesar dubbing him “the Woodsman from District Seven.” Woodsman even gained a capital letter. He watched himself throw axes at children, leaving them split in half and bloody. The girl from 4 whose head he chopped off... he knew it looked bad, but it was worse than he imagined.

They showed the rockslide, and him kissing Jo, sliding her dad’s wedding band onto his finger for safekeeping. While everyone’s eyes were on the video, Dean let himself have one moment of weakness and reached up to stroke the soft wood of the band hanging around his neck. The little forest god next to it seemed fitting somehow. He didn’t know why.

At the end of the ceremony, they moved him back to the Training Center to sleep off the night. They’d start back home tomorrow morning. Dean had never been so tired. Every bone and muscle in his body felt like it was filled with cement. Watching, thinking about it all again, it drained his energy and made his mind blank and snowy.

To Dean’s surprise, Ellen was waiting for them outside the elevator. As soon as he saw her, Dean forgot himself and went straight into her arms, hugging her like he’d done a hundred times before. Whether it was her mother’s instincts or surprise, Ellen hugged him back. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbled into her shoulder. Her hair was in his mouth, but he didn’t care.

“I know, sweetie,” she said. There was a catch in her throat. Dean pretended he didn’t hear it.

He pulled back and started fumbling with the cord around his neck. “Here. Jo wanted me to get this back to you.” He placed the wooden band into her hand and closed her fingers around it. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t save her. I wanted to, I did.” Tears streamed down his face, snot running from his nose. “I’m sorry.”

Ellen reached for him and pulled him into another hug, her hands making slow, soothing swirls on his back. “I know, Dean, I know.”

“And—” Dean pulled back. He didn’t know why, but he needed to tell Ellen this, he needed to tell her everything. “I wasn’t lying. I really wanted to marry Jo. I just—I didn’t think about it until—”

She pressed a finger to his wet lips to hush him. Though he saw the tears in her eyes, she wasn’t crying. Years of being a victor, watching children die in the Games steeled her heart, even now. “I know. An’ I woulda loved to have you in my family. I want you to know, I don’t blame you. I will never blame you for what you had to do in there.” Her face fell a little and her hand moved a little faster on his back. “Right now, Bobby and I gotta talk to you about somethin’.”

Right. Bobby mentioned it before the ceremony. “Yeah.” Dean wiped the tears and snot from his face. “Okay.”

They sat down at the large dining room table. To think, two weeks ago they were all here together, Jo still smiling like it was any other day back home. Dean shook the thought from his mind and concentrated on Bobby.

The old weathered face frowned at him. “Tell me, you got another girl at home? Someone else you fancy?” Bobby asked.

Dean’s eyes went wide. “I meant what I said!” he snapped. “Didn’t you believe me? I liked Jo! I wanted—”

Bobby waved a hand, cutting him off. “That’s not what I mean. You’re a victor now, son, life doesn’t get better, it just gets a little easier.” He ran a hand across his face. “I shoulda told you before. What the Capitol does with young... attractive victors.”

Dean didn’t understand. He won. That gave him a free pass for life. No more reapings, no more games. “Bobby, what else can they do to me?”

The old man’s face suddenly went hard and cold. “They can whore you out to the highest bidder. Pass you around to the high and mighty so they can tell their friends they fucked a victor.” Dean recoiled a little. He’d never heard Bobby talk like that. A lump settled in his stomach at his words. “You have one year, one year ‘til you come of age and they figure you’ve had enough time to mourn Jo. One year before they start inviting you to the Capitol to spread your legs. Now, you got two options: you go back home and find some girl an’ marry her as soon as you come of age. If you’re producing babies for their Games, they won’t touch you.”

There was a girl back home, Lisa. She smiled at him and he smiled back. Her dad lost a hand to an ax and she helped him around his furniture shop. She was pretty and he liked talking with her. But no, he couldn’t. Marry someone and put them right back in this cycle of watching their children slaughtered for entertainment? He wouldn’t do that.

“What’s my other option?” Dean whispered.

Bobby shook his head. “Your other option is to spiral. Find some personality defect and make it yours. Drink too much, throw hatchets at kids in the street. Make yourself so belligerent and undesirable, not even the Capitol will want you in its bed.”

Now he understood. Haymitch Abernathy, the winner of the Quell. That’s why he was drinking himself to death. Part of it was probably to stop the nightmares, but making himself so undesirable to keep the Capitol away... Just another way the Games changed people.

He wasn’t looking at Bobby and Ellen anymore. “I’ll figure it out.”

Bobby rested a hand on his arm, the same spot he grabbed earlier. It still hurt a little. “I’m sorry, boy. I shoulda told ya. It’s just, I thought—”

“Jo was going to win?” Dean cut him off, but there was no fire in his words. “Yeah. I did too.”

He buried his face in his hands for a second, soaking it all in. “How long will I have to... keep it up?” he asked.

Ellen and Bobby exchanged a look. “Probably about ten years. But prepare yourself for the rest of your life.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

“No one wins the Games, sweetie,” Ellen said. “You just survive it.” Yeah, he was starting to get that.

He went to bed and for the first time, visions of Jo’s bloody face, her lips gasping for air, filled his nightmares. Right after he won, he was too exhausted to dream, or too drugged. Dean knew about Bobby’s nightmares, even Ellen’s. Guess he had another thing to look forward to for surviving. He hugged his pillow close and fought sleep for the rest of the night.

Back home, there was a huge crowd gathered at the train station to meet him. His eyes scanned the crowd, finding Sam and his dad right away. He wanted to run to them, but the new mayor (Clement Green, a nice older man, lost his daughter to the Games six years ago but never let it keep him down) was there to shake his hand. And there was a dinner at the Mayor’s house, and so many people to talk to when all Dean wanted to do was crawl into bed and never come out again.

Finally, the party ended and dad took him and Sammy home. To their new house in the Victor’s Village. If you asked Dean it was too large. He missed the worn timbers of their old cabin. It wasn’t much, but it was home. John brought him up to the master bedroom. “We moved all our stuff in when they announced you as victor. You’re getting the master bedroom, no arguments. It’s your house.”

Dean didn’t think he had enough energy to argue. “Thanks, dad.”

Then, John did something he hadn’t done for either of his boys in years. He laid out Dean’s pajamas on the bed and directed him to his new bathroom to brush his teeth. When Dean returned, he helped Dean button the pajama top and tie the drawstring for the pants. He turned down the bed, too. He settled Dean in between the too thick quilts and tucked him in.

Just when Dean thought he was going to leave, John pulled up a chair next to the bed and started talking, his deep voice low and soothing. “When you were three years old, Bobby made you your first ax—just a little thing, barely a hatchet. Your mother was beside herself. She didn’t want you touching it, said you’d cut your hand open and then where would we be? But you loved that little ax. You kept it in a box next to your bed and no one was allowed to touch it except you. In the mornings when we got you dressed, you’d slide it into your belt and pretend like you were going off to the forests with the other lumberjacks.

“When Sammy was born, you took that little hatchet and spent every moment you could by the foot of the crib. You said you were guarding him.” John smiled, shaking his head. “You said, the Capitol would never touch him. Right then and there I knew, the only way you were going into the Games was as a volunteer for Sam. Saving Cas’ brother like that...”

A large hand reached out and ran through his hair, bringing back the warmth of family he missed so much in the arena. “No matter what you had to do in there, I will never stop being proud of you.”

Tears leaked out of the corners of Dean’s eyes. “I couldn’t save Jo.” He could never save Jo. The moment he decided to win the Games, Jo didn’t have a chance. Only one tribute survived, everyone knew that.

“Jo didn’t need saving,” John said. “Not when she was a kid, and not when she was a tribute. She needed a friend, in there and out here. You gave that to her.”

John sat by Dean’s bed for hours. Speaking in a low, calming voice, telling old stories and singing songs, anything to make Dean sleep. Dean didn’t think he’d ever sleep again. Still, he managed to drift off.

In his nightmare, he dreamed of the girl from 2, with her bleeding eye and her screams. He swung his ax to take her head. Suddenly, it wasn’t an ax anymore. A snake reared back and struck at him, fangs dripping with blood and venom.

Dean’s eyes snapped open. Sweat clung to his face and chest. He was so hot, why was he hot? Throwing the covers away, he stripped off his fancy silk pajama shirt and let the cool air touch his skin. His sweat dried up and he started to shiver. He didn’t care. Dad wasn’t sitting by the bed anymore, probably left when he fell asleep.

Ignoring the slippers by the bed, Dean walked out into the hall, barefoot, bare chested and shivering. He walked around the new house, everything looked alien in the dark, even more so than it should. In the daylight, he’d probably like this place. If he knew it wasn’t his prize for killing for the Capitol, bought with its blood money.

He made his way down into a study-looking area. Boxes littered the floor, waiting to be unpacked. He saw a mix of his things and dad’s. So they were sharing the study? Dad could have it if he wanted, he didn’t want any part of this house. He stumbled over to the liquor cabinet and rummaged through the bottles.

Every victor had a talent. Bobby’s was making barrels. What the Capitol didn’t know was he then used those barrels to age alcohol. Wine from wild grapes, whiskey, beer, anything. Bobby was the biggest bootlegger in the district and Dean planned to become his new best client.

He picked out a bottle of whiskey and took a sip. The alcohol burned down his throat and made his eyes water. He’d had a few drinks before. On Christmas and New Year’s, during family birthdays. He didn’t have much of a taste for it. Well, now was the time to develop one. He took another swig and tucked the bottle under his arm, heading back to his bedroom.

Dean let himself spiral. He crawled further down the neck of a bottle with no intent of returning. It’s what Bobby said he had to do to get the Capitol to leave him alone. It worked. After his Victory Tour, they never bothered him again. Didn’t even ask him to mentor. Ellen suggested it once, that he come to the Capitol and observe her and Bobby and how they did it. They weren’t going to live forever, after all, and one day this could be his job. Dean ignored her and had another drink.

For the next seven years, his life was filled with amber liquid and empty bottles. On the plus side, he wasn’t having nightmares as often. Now if he could just keep that up until the alcohol killed him, he’d be golden.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since we didn't really see the aftermath of Katniss' Games (she was in and out of consciousness) I kind of kept things vague. Also, I know the books say the Capitol started exploiting Finnick was he was sixteen, but from other cues within the universe, it seems legal "adulthood" is around eighteen. That's when kids age out of the Games, so I figured with Dean being seventeen, he had at least one year before the Capitol tried to exploit him.


	7. The 64th Annual Hunger Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benny was confident. This wasn’t just his last year, it was the year he was going to win. He wanted to go last year but... he chickened out. Not this time. If a kid from 7 could volunteer, so could he.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Benny's Games aren't going to be as involved as Dean's, I only did one chapter. I didn't want to get too repetitive with the flow of things. Also, writing Dean's Games was a bitch and I didn't want to do that to myself again.
> 
> In the books, Four is considered a Career district, but we know Annie didn't volunteer, and since Finnick was so young, he probably didn't either. I took this as: winning the Games is an honor in Four, but volunteering isn't as expected as in One or Two.
> 
> Enjoy!

Benny bounced up and down on the balls of his feet in the crowd. He was eighteen, this was his last reaping, his last chance. He spent the whole year talking with the other boys in his class, seeing if they were planning to volunteer. District 4 considered it an honor to be in the Games, even more so to win, but they didn’t have volunteers every year, and so far, everyone he talked to said they weren’t planning on it. Minds changed all the time, but Benny was confident. This wasn’t just his last year, it was the year he was going to win. He didn’t have any other choice. He wanted to go last year but... he chickened out. Not this time. If a kid from 7 could volunteer, so could he.

Across the way, over in the girl’s area, his sister Elizabeth sat in her wheelchair, eyes focused on her lap. This was her second year and they had more than enough food, she’d never be picked. But with her condition... she probably wouldn’t survive more than a few hurricane seasons.

He turned his attention back to the stage, he didn’t want to miss his moment. His fingers absently rubbed at the bracelet around his left wrist. Elizabeth gave it to him last night, it was woven from a lock of her long, beautiful hair. “Use it as your token,” she said as she secured it around his wrist, tears already streaking down her cheeks. “Please?”

“I’ll never take it off,” he promised.

Bringing his attention back, he was just in time to hear the first tribute’s name called. “Roderik Wilks!” Custo, their district escort, called out.

A tall boy—six three if he was an inch—with blonde curls held his head high as he walked to the stage. Benny knew Wilks. He was an asshole to start and a bastard to end. Any other year, Benny would stand quietly when they asked for volunteers, happy in the knowledge Wilkes might not come back. Not this year.

“Do we have any volunteers?” Custo asked.

Benny’s hand shot up. “I volunteer!” he shouted.

Across the square, Elizabeth buried her face in her hands. He told her his plan a few days ago. She was none too happy about it, but her cries and pleas couldn’t sway him. He was doing this for her, to get her better. She was all he had. Even with the slim chance he wouldn’t win, everyone loved Elizabeth. She was as sweet and kind a person as could be found. By the time Benny made it up to the stage, he heard three whispered promises that families would take her in should he not return. It was good to know she was safe, but he was going to make it back. He was going to win.

“What’s your name, son?” Custo asked, his too white teeth picking up the glare from the sun.

Benny tipped his chin up, peering out at the crowd. “Benny Lafitte.”

“Good luck to you, Benny.” The crowd clapped, some with sincerity, and they were escorted off stage.

An hour later, after saying goodbye to his sister and promising to return, he was on the train speeding towards the Capitol. The other tribute, Melissa Howard, picked at her plate. “You should eat,” Oberen, one of their mentors, said. “You need to build up your strength—”

“My strength?” Melissa snapped. “Are you kidding me? He’s gonna win!” She jabbed a thumb in Benny’s direction. They didn’t know each other, or so he thought. Clearly, she already had some ideas about him. “Look at him! Arms as big as my head! He’s gonna win, and I’m gonna die!”

“Which is why,” Oberen said slowly, “you should enjoy the food while you can.”

Melissa let out a howl of rage and got up from the table, upending some of the glasses and spilling wine across the table cloth. Custo made a sound like he was watching the world end, then went off to retrieve one of the Capitol attendants. Melissa stomped through the train to her room. Their other mentor, Mags, sighed and finished her lobster bisque before standing up. “I’ll git her.”

When she was gone, Oberen shook his head and poured himself another glass of wine. “Probably going for the ‘weakling’ defence,” he said. “Keep an eye on that one.”

“Yeah, right.” Benny nodded.

They arrived at the Remake Center and were immediately shuffled off to the stylists. Benny’s stylist, Xeno, had golden skin and large blue tattoos of eyes ringed around her eyes. Benny was trying to figure out why exactly that was fashionable when her sharp, but not unattractive, voice brought him to attention.

“You, my dear, are one lucky boy,” she said.

“I am?”

“Yes! This is my last year as a stylist, so I want to make a big splash!” She had Benny on a stool—naked, which was less fun than it sounded—and was circling around him like a vulture. “Last year, the boy who won had an amulet of a folksy forest God for his token,” she said. “I didn’t see it until the interviews, naturally, and I was so frustrated that I missed a chance to use that inspiration for last year’s Games.”

Benny tried to unravel that sentence. He finally gave up and shook his head. “Wha’s that mean?”

“Picture this!” She stopped in front of him, hands held out like she was praying and her eyes (both sets) focused on the middle distance. “A luminous sea god and goddess, ascending from the waves of District Four and riding into the Games! Ready to conquer!”

Benny could not picture that. He nodded all the same. “Alright then.”

An hour later, after having every part of his body touched and poked, his beard shaven—which he was not a fan of—Xeno wrapped a sparkling gold net around his waist, put a crown on his head and a trident in his hand. “Perfect! The perfect, powerful sea god!” she decreed. “With a body like that, we don’t want to hide it. No, no.” Thankfully, she let him wear the tiniest pair of gold shorts under the net, otherwise he’d be naked in front of all of Panem.

She babbled on to the prep team, explaining her choices and receiving their admiration. Benny shut her out, all his attention focused on the trident. It felt good, to say the least. A piece of home he used to provide for his sister. Here, he’d use it in other ways, but all of it was for her. He’d never forget that. He didn’t expect there to be a trident in the arena, a spear would be enough. He could make a net out of anything, so as long as there was grass, he wouldn’t want for weapons. That was a comfort, at least.

In training, Benny did all he could to put on more weight, more muscle. Melissa was right, he was already built. He worked out on the fishing trawlers, hauling in nets that weighed hundreds of pounds really worked his muscles into good shape. But he needed more if he was going to win. Oberen was mentoring him while Mags got Melissa. He told Benny to do two things during training: show off as much as possible, and get in with the Careers. He wasn’t so sold on that second one.

But Oberen just shook his head. “Trust me. The best place to be to kill the Careers is right in that pack. Make them trust you, but never ever trust a single one of them.”

“What about the Victor last year?” he asked. “The kid from Seven? He killed three Careers without partnerin’ up with them.”

“He had his district partner as an ally.” They both glanced down the hall where Mags was mentoring Melissa. “I don’t think you have that option.”

“I’m gettin’ that.” So he relented. During the first day of training, he picked up one of the fancy silver nets and used it to ensnare and “kill” his sparring partner. Benny turned around just in time to see the boy from 1 drop his eyes away. Benny smirked to himself. A few more fights with nothing but a net and he had the attention of both 1 and 2.

That night, when he was back upstairs for dinner, Oberen met him at the elevator with a wide smile. “Congratulations, kid, you’re in with the Career pack!”

Benny didn’t say anything, he simply nodded. This did make it a little complicated. It wasn’t his style to turn on those who allied themselves with him. But he had to remember: they were in it for his skills. Every single one of them was planning the same thing: thin the field, then turn on the others. Well, he’d just have to turn before they did.

The morning of the Games, Benny found he was actually nervous. This is for Elizabeth, he reminded himself. All for her. The money of a victor will buy medicine and she’ll get better. That was all he ever hoped for in life: that his sister got the chance to live longer than he did. This was the only way to do it. He rubbed his fingers over the bracelet.

He rose up into the arena. The sunlight blinded him for a moment but there was a familiar smell in the air... seawater. His eyes adjusted and in front of him he saw nothing but sandy shore and trees beyond that, then mountains behind that. Where was the seawater smell coming from? He looked over his shoulder—any motion from his feet and he’d be blown sky-high—and his eyes went wide at the sight.

Water splashed behind him. For miles and miles, clear, open sea. Maybe they meant it as a food source. They’d done that before: food only being available in one area of the arena to force the tributes together. A little ways out, Benny saw a small spit of an island. Nothing but sand and one lonely palm.

The plan formed in his mind before the countdown was even half way finished: as soon as he was done with the Careers, swim out to the island, collect as much seaweed as he could to make a net, swim back and drag any other tributes under. Eventually he’d have to come back to the shore, but for now, this was a way to thin the field.

He turned back to face the cornucopia, twenty seconds left on the clock. A flash of silver caught his eye, gleaming a little differently than the other weapons, like water pouring over the crate it was sitting on. He realized all at once: a net! They gave him a net!

From nowhere, a laugh bubbled up inside of Benny’s chest. It got louder and stronger until he threw his head back, insane laughter echoing through the clearing. One girl was so startled, she shifted on her plate and detonated the mines. A few others froze up at the sight, but Benny kept laughing.

He knew the arena was designed long before the tributes were chosen, he knew it was years of planning. There was no way the Gamemakers knew he was coming, that this would be the arena for the tribute from District 4 who spent months at a time on a fishing boat, nothing but the water and that one deck to live off of. These weren’t just his Games, this was his arena. There was no way he couldn’t win.

The cannon sounded and Benny launched himself towards the cornucopia. He glanced at the net and laughed again. Someone really wanted him to win these Games.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As far as the arenas are concerned, there were a few references to them taking "time" to build. "Arenas aren't built in a day," is the line, I think. In my mind, most arenas are circles because of the force field, but Benny's was a rectangle. They used five individual force fields to generate sides. This has little to nothing to do with anything, I just like sharing my personal head canon.
> 
> Elizabeth isn't sick with anything specific, she's just sickly. In classic literature, sickly children usually have asthma or are anemic, doctors just didn't know what to do with that in the earlier part of the 19th and 20th centuries. There is advanced medicine in the Hunger Games world, but how much do you bet it actually trickled down to the districts?


	8. Johanna Mason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Johanna—” Dean’s head snapped up “—Mason!” He watched Ellen hold back tears as the girl shook and stumbled her way up the platform. Dean knew, she could not stand the loss of another Joanna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean's first shot at mentoring, and who else would he pick but Johanna Mason? Johanna won the 71st Hunger Games, so it's been seven years since Dean won, just to give you a timeline.
> 
> Enjoy!

Dean sat on the stage next to Ellen, nursing a very large hangover. Ellen and Bobby understood they were responsible for his... appreciation of alcohol and they did their best not to say anything about it. Cas was vocal enough for them, for all of District 7. While Sam and dad only gave him disapproving looks, Cas often came over in the mornings to “make breakfast.” Which really meant hauling Dean down into the kitchen and banging pots and pans as loud as possible. Then, he threw a plate of eggs in front of Dean and told him about all the terrible things alcohol does to a body. Starting with bad breath and ending with cirrhosis of the liver.

Dean put up with it for a while. Cas mostly did it when the Games were near because that was when Dean was at his worst. But after the 68th Hunger Games, watching two more children be dragged off to the Capitol, knowing they probably wouldn't return, he snapped. “If it wasn’t for the drinking I’d already be dead!” he shouted.

Cas stopped talking for a moment, trying to figure out Dean’s words. He ducked his head, not looking at Cas. “Bobby had an old shotgun in his basement. He doesn’t go down there anymore,” couldn’t with the wheelchair. “Two summers ago, I stole it. It’s under my bed.

“The drinking is the only thing that keeps me from using it.” Blue eyes locked with his, they both pretended Cas wasn’t crying. “Tell me, Cas, do you want me to take a slow death? Or a fast one?”

After that, Cas didn’t leave Dean’s house for five days. He went to his classes in town, he was studying to become a doctor and Dean couldn’t be prouder. But every night, he returned to the house and made dinner for himself, Sam, John and Dean. Now that Anna was aged out of the reaping, she took over at home taking care of their family while going to medical school with Cas. They probably planned it that way so Cas could spend more time over there making sure Dean didn’t kill himself.

He settled on the other side of Dean’s massive bed, just like the sleepovers they had when they were kids. Only back then, they shared Dean’s little twin bed with the mattress that was caved in on one side. Cas took over his father’s role of talking with Dean until he slept. He still wasn’t doing well, but he started weaning himself off the alcohol. Now, he only went through a bottle every three days.

The night Cas finally went back to his own house to check in with everyone, the first thing Dean did was drop to his knees and peer under the bed. As he suspected, the shotgun was gone. So Cas was determined to keep him alive, with or without his help.

He found a middle ground between sober and painfully aware, and drunk and comfortably numb. Cas was still on his case but he was less likely to bang pots and pans to teach Dean a lesson. He repeated his week long sleep over whenever he thought Dean was slipping. The Capitol all but forgot about him so in theory he could stop drinking all together... With the threat of even more nightmares hanging over his head, Dean vetoed that plan.

“And now,” Bettina said in her singsong voice. She was a little older, trying to hold onto her youth with surgery. Add in her orange skin and she was quite a sight. “Ladies first!”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut. Every year she said that, and every year Jo’s face filled his mind. Not her laughter as she beat him in a foot race, or her sneer when some idiot hit on her. It was her death. Bloody and crushed by the Capitol made rockslide. So many happy memories of his friend were crowded out by one horrible one. Seven damn years and it was still there, haunting his dreams.

Bettina grabbed a slip from the girl’s ball and unfolded it. “Johanna—” Dean’s head snapped up “—Mason!” she read.

The crowd of girls parted and a smallish, mousy redhead stood there shaking, tears already filling her eyes. She walked up to the stage, stumbling and tripping over her own feet. Next to Dean, Ellen was shaking. This girl who looked nothing like her Jo, acted nothing like her and had zero connection to her, still made Ellen hold back tears in front of the cameras. She was usually the mentor for the female tribute and Dean knew, she could not stand the loss of another Joanna.

They were already on to the boy and Dean tuned Bettina out like he did every year. He reached over and took Ellen’s shaking fingers. “I’ll do it this year, Ellen, I’ll be her mentor.”

Ellen didn’t say anything. She didn’t even acknowledge that Dean spoke. She just held tight to his hand as they waited for the reaping to end. On the stage in front of them, Johanna Mason sobbed quietly as the Peacekeepers took her away.

Later on the train, Ellen got herself together as Johanna continued to cry in her room. “I can handle it, Dean,” she said. “She ain’t my Jo. I’ll be fine.”

“No,” he said. He was trying to ignore the queasy feeling in his stomach. This was his first time on the train since his Victory Tour. The hangover didn’t help. “It’s too much, and you won’t be doing her any favors. No offense, El, but you haven’t been on your game like you were before my Games.”

The slap came flying out of nowhere and hit so hard, Dean tasted blood. His eye felt like it was going to pop out of the socket. He rubbed his jaw and tried to focus on Ellen. Even through the tears of pain welling in his eyes, he saw the hard set of her jaw. Dean was suddenly glad she didn’t have a knife on her.

“Don’t you dare,” she hissed, voice low and dangerous. “You spent the last seven Games inside a bottle! You do not know how this works. Your knowledge of the Games is what happens inside the arena. You know nothing about what it means to be a mentor, or what it takes to get your tribute out alive. You will get this girl killed.”

“Did you see her? She’s gonna get herself killed! There is no helping her. And you know that, but you’re still gonna take it all on yourself if she dies. I won’t let you destroy yourself like that!” He didn’t touch the comment about his drinking. They’d had that argument too many times. Years ago, some things were said and Ellen stopped talking to him for a month. He never rose to the bait again. He couldn’t stand losing Ellen or Bobby, and this risked just that.

They stood in the dining car glaring daggers at each other. Bobby was silent, sitting and watching the whole thing. “As a first time mentor,” Bobby finally said. “Dean is entitled to have an older, more experienced mentor work with him and his tribute. Dean will take the girl, Ellen has final say in decisions. Everybody happy?” He turned and wheeled himself down the hall. With one last scowl, Ellen followed him. They started arguing in low, hushed tones, then disappeared into their compartment.

Dean decided to apologize later. Right now, he needed to size up the girl who was going to die in the arena, see if there was any hope of keeping her alive. Steeling himself, his fingers itched to hold a bottle. He headed down the hall to the rooms reserved for the female tribute.

He knocked in the door. “C-come in,” a low voice whimpered. Dean rubbed a hand over his eyes. Well, he knew this wasn’t supposed to be easy.

He opened the door and the same little girl from the reaping was there, head down, shoulders shaking with tiny sobs. She peered up at him through the curtain of her hair and the whole facade vanished. She rolled her eyes when she saw him, he head lifting, spine straightening. “Oh, it’s you,” she said, wiping the remnants of tears from her face. “Thought you were the other kid. Decker? He came by a while ago to apologize.” She rolled her eyes again. “He’s gonna be so easy.”

Dean’s mouth fell open, gaping at this... new, different girl. Her eyes were sharp and calculating, her shoulders straight and strong. This was a girl who could win. “It was an act,” Dean said, almost to himself. “All of it. Back at the reaping?”

Johanna shrugged. “Every tribute watches a recap of the reapings. Let them think I’m a weakling. Gives me an edge.”

This, this was good. Dean could work with this. The kid already knew how to play the game. “My name is Dean Winchester, and—”

“I know who you are,” she snapped. “You took the town drunk title from Singer. Congrats on that.”

Okay, he’d let that slide. “I’m your mentor.”

It was Johanna’s turn to gape at him. “Screw that! I want Ellen!”

Dean leaned forward, getting as close to her as he dared. She might lash out and bite his ear off or something. He grinned at her. “Sweetheart, you don’t get a vote.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and those teeth Dean was worried about all but gnashed at him. “But you’re the town drunk! You haven’t mentored, ever. How are you supposed to help me?”

“I won, didn’t I? I’d say that gives me a little insight into how you can win too.” She didn’t say anything, just growled at him. Lovely.

He started to pace the room, trying to think. “So, just double checking, the thing in town: completely an act?”

“Pft, of course. I work in the forests, I’m not afraid of the Games.”

She was a lumberjack? They did start at her age, sometimes, during school breaks. Their strategy started forming in Dean’s head. “Alright, stand up, let me look at you.”

Johanna scowled at him, her pretty face sour and pinched. They’d have to work on that. “Isn’t that the stylist’s job?”

“Just shut up and stand.” Wow, this was going to be difficult.

With an exaggerated sigh and more scowling, she stood up and flapped her arms at her sides. “Seen enough, perv?”

“Oh, shut up!” Dean massaged his temples. “You wanna win these Games?”

“Of course,” she said.

“Then shut up and do what I tell you.” She made a face but was silent. “Lift your arms and turn around. Slow.”

“Perv,” she mumbled again but started turning.

Yes, definite muscles, he saw now. On stage she was so hunched over and weepy, she didn’t look like much. Now he saw muscles strong from chopping, good shoulders too. “What’s the farthest you can throw an ax and still hit the target?”

“Fifty feet.”

That was impressive. Excitement bubbled up in Dean’s stomach. “How far do you need to be to get within a foot of your target?”

“A hundred feet.”

“If you aim for a chest and miss, you still hit an arm,” he said. Johanna stopped turning and looked up at him, her mouth parting a little before snapping shut. Dean didn’t think anyone from town had seen him smile in... probably years. “Arm gets taken off out in the forest, we all know how to stabilize it until we get the patient to the doctor. There are no doctors in the arena.”

He motioned for her to sit back down on the bed. He pulled up a chair and leaned in. “Here’s the deal: I will get you home and you will survive these Games. But you have to do everything I tell you. Deal?” He held out his hand for a shake.

Johanna looked at his hand like it might bite her. She still didn’t trust him. “If it helps, Ellen’s mentoring with me. She has final say on all decisions.”

Her scowl melted a little. After another moment of consideration, she took his hand. “Deal. But if I die, I’m gonna come back and haunt your ass.”

“Awesome.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since District 7 has more than one victor, I figure they all take turns mentoring. So, even though Dean won, he didn't have to mentor because Bobby and Ellen always did it. In the next few chapters, there will be a lot of first time mentor problems, like how Dean doesn't really know any of the other victors because he didn't go to the Capitol every year.


	9. Benny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Fuck the Careers. We ain’t got nothin’ in common ‘cept volunteering.” Benny smiled at Dean. “That’s why I wanted to meet you. You volunteered too. Don’t get a lot of those in Seven.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Benny finally meet. Yes, it took a long time to get here, but I did say this wasn't just about their relationship. Also, I might have let this fic get a little ahead of me. My end goal of 30k has been surpassed and now I'm just hoping to keep it under 45k. Sorry if that's more than what you all signed up for.
> 
> All mistakes are mine, if you locate any typos, please let me know and they'll be taken care of. Enjoy!

“Triple scotch, neat.” Dean ordered the drink before his ass hit the bar stool. As soon as it was placed in front of him, he downed it all and ordered another. This one he sipped slowly. He promised Ellen he’d take it easy on the drinking as long as he was mentoring. Boy, was the Capitol making that a hard promise to fulfill.

They were at one of the most popular bars in the whole Capitol—Victor’s Village. The rumor was that victors hung out here, so the well-to-do of the Capitol flocked to its doors, looking for their chance to rub elbows with their heroes. This made it a great place for mentors to get sponsors for their tributes. The downside: you actually had to talk to the citizens of the Capitol. If Dean had to smile at one more overfed woman who just had her skin dyed hot pink and wanted to know what he thought, he was going to take his ax and bludgeon himself to death with it.

The Games hadn’t even started yet but final interviews were tomorrow and Ellen said this was the best time to hook potential sponsors. “Give ‘em a taste, let them watch the kid’s interview, then they’ll come to you,” she said. “Like shooting fish in a barrel.” Dean wasn’t sure if this particular strategy would work with Johanna. They were keeping up the weakling appearance until the first cannon opened the Games, then she was to get her hands on an ax and behead anyone who got in her way.

“Like you did?” Johanna asked when Dean outlined the plan.

He flinched a little. He only beheaded the one tribute... “Yeah,” he said. “The Careers can fight with swords and maces, but an ax is better than any of those. You can throw it or use it in close combat. Get your hands on an ax and don’t stop until you’re the Victor.”

“If I don’t impress the Gamemakers, they might not even put an ax in there.” This was a recurring argument with her.

Dean shook his head. “Let me worry about that.” Which was why he was in this stupid bar, chatting up these stupid people, wanting to kill himself with his own ax. Thank God Ellen was handling most of the sponsorship, else Johanna would be dead in a day.

“This seat taken, brother?” a smooth voice asked. There was a slight accent to it, definitely not from the Capitol, and more pronounced than most district accents.

Dean nodded towards the large man standing next to him. “It’s all yours.”

The man ordered a drink and held his hand out. “Benny Lafitte, District Four. Victor of the 64th Games.”

Ah, that was the accent. “Dean Winchester, Seven. The 63rd Games.” They shook hands and Dean returned to his drink. He met enough other victors in the Capitol this week that he knew what was expected of a new face: name, district, Games. He was slightly behind the times because he never mentored. By all rights, he should’ve gotten to know these people after his Games. Making friends with the only crowd who truly understood what it was like to survive the arena. He thought he didn’t need to, that Bobby and Ellen were enough. Still, most of them were alright.

Benny’s face lit up. “Dean Winchester! I’ve been looking forward to meetin’ you. You won year before I did.”

Dean wracked his brain. He didn’t remember the Games for the few years after he won, he was too busy plundering Bobby’s supply of bootleg whiskey to keep the nightmares at bay. “Sorry. I don’t remember much from back then.”

Benny eyed his triple scotch. “Yeah. I imagine.”

“Four,” he said. “Shouldn’t you be over with the other Careers?” He nodded across the bar where the mentors from 1 and 2 were “holding court” with the adoring eyes of the Capitol’s mightiest citizens.

Benny waved a hand. “Fuck them. We ain’t got nothin’ in common ‘cept volunteering.” Dean arched an eyebrow at his casual use of “we.” So they were a “we” now? Benny didn’t seem to notice. He smiled at Dean. “That’s why I wanted to meet you. You volunteered too. Don’t get a lot of those in Seven.”

He shrugged and sipped at his drink. “I did it for the right reason.” He let the statement hang there.

Benny snorted. “An’ what makes you think I didn’t?”

Sparkling blue eyes smiled at him and Dean almost forgot to breathe for a second. Usually, when someone asked for this story, he lied. Or kept out enough detail so no one really knew why he did it. Imagine his surprise when he opened his mouth and the truth fell out. “My best friend’s little brother got picked,” he said. “He was only twelve. I knew my friend was going to volunteer for him and I couldn’t let that happen. He was too smart for the Games. I went in his brother’s place.”

Benny nodded, considering the story. “What’s your friend do now?”

Dean sat up a little straighter. Talking about Cas always filled him with pride. “He’s the head doctor for Seven. Youngest head doctor we’ve ever had. He went to school because he didn’t die in the Games.” No matter what happened to him, how many nightmares he had to face, he would never regret volunteering. Knowing that he saved Gadreel and gave Cas the chance at a good, successful life was the best thing he’d done with his sorry excuse for an existence.

Benny clinked their drinks together. “That’s great.”

“So,” Dean said, a little smug now. “Why’d you volunteer? Fame, fortune?” Sure, District 4 wasn’t as hard core as the other Career districts, but no one volunteered in place of someone else. Dean was an anomaly.

Benny smiled and took a sip of his beer. It wasn’t a cocky smile or even a little bit smug. If Dean had to call it anything, he’d say it was fond. “My little sister, Elizabeth. She’s always been sickly. With our daddy gone and our mama dead, it was on me to take care of her. Even puillin’ in a fisherman’s salary wasn’t enough.” His eyes were suddenly hard, old beyond his years. “The life of a victor would give me more than enough money to take care of her. Make sure she outlived me. So yeah, that’s one way to put it I suppose. I did it for the money to keep my baby sister alive.”

For a moment, Dean didn’t know what to say. He looked Benny over, taking in his straight shoulders, his chin held high. He wasn’t ashamed of his victory like some of the others were. Like Dean, he did it to save a life other than his own. He respected that.

“Wow,” he said. “Your story is actually better than mine.”

Benny chuckled. “Thanks, brother. It’s nice to meet a... a kindred spirit.” He leaned in, hand close enough to touch Dean’s arm. Why did that send a shiver down his spine? “Gotta say, I’m glad you finally came to mentor. You always seemed more inneresting than most of the others.”

Dean smiled, but there was nothing behind it. “My tribute this year, Johanna.” He shook his head and finished his whiskey, ordering another one. “I had to come. I couldn’t lose another Jo in the arena.” He didn’t know why but he suddenly wanted to tell Benny everything. What it felt like to watch his Jo die, all he’d done to himself to stay out of the Capitol’s eye. He didn’t know why, but he trusted Benny.

“My condolences, brother. It’s been a good long while since your Games, but I imagine the sting of losing someone you love in there never gets any easier.”

“No it does not.” Maybe Dean did need more victor friends. More people who knew how hard just surviving was.

Benny held his beer out towards Dean. “To good reasons.”

He clinked his glass with the bottle. “To good reasons.”

~

Dean’s back hit the wall and Benny’s tongue pressed between his lips. Dean tasted beer and a little whiskey. He moaned, his legs turning to jelly under Benny’s strong hands. They spent a while talking back at the bar, about everything. Home, their families, likes, dislikes, their talents. Benny built boats and Dean made furniture, so they had a lot in common there. Then, their hands brushed together and well... here they were.

He never took up with anyone back home, too afraid of accidentally getting a girl pregnant and creating another child for the Capitol to kill. There were a few times, when he was too drunk for his own good and Cas launched on one of his week-long sleepovers to make sure Dean didn’t kill himself. He’d reach for Cas under the covers, pull him close and press drink-addled kisses to his neck, mumbling pleas of love he didn’t really mean. Not that way, at least.

Cas never let him get too far. He always pushed him away and sighed about “taking advantage.” Still, he let Dean sleep in his arms, the human warmth keeping the nightmares at bay for a little while longer.

If Cas was like a warm blanket, Benny was a fire. Everywhere he touched burned with want, need, or some combination of the two. For the first time in a very long time, Dean wanted. He wanted Benny more than he thought he could want another person.

Benny sucked Dean’s tongue into his mouth, hands already pulling open all the fussy buttons of the stupid Capitol jacket Ellen made him wear. Dean moved to help. He shucked his jacket and started on his shirt. Benny shook his head, hand going straight to their pants. _Taking advantage_ , Cas’ voice whispered in the back of his head. He wasn’t drunk and Benny was drinking too, so at least they were in the same ballpark... ish.

Large hands slid down his pants and rubbed over the bulge in his underwear, teasing, not touching nearly enough. Dean moaned and threw his head back, Benny’s teeth latching onto his neck. He closed his eyes.

The memories slammed into him. The girl from 4, blood gushing from her eye, wailing like a dying animal. The sound stopped when his ax hit her neck. And the boy, his last kill. He saw his ax fly across the clearing and strike his chest. The wound opened, red and deep enough to see bone. A scene from one of his nightmares flashed across his mind—black spiders crawled out of the kid’s chest, engulfing him just as the cannon sounded, declaring Dean the Victor of the 63rd Annual Hunger Games...

“Stop!” he gasped and pulled away from Benny. His back hit the wall pretty fast, which was when he remembered they were in a fucking broom closet at the back of the bar. “Stop,” he said again, quieter, so they didn’t call attention to their hiding spot.

Benny’s eyes raked over him, concerned, not lustful, not anymore. Even with his pants open and his shirt hanging off one shoulder, he stayed back, letting Dean have his panic attack. That was victors for ya: they automatically understood mental... issues. “Wha’s wrong?” he asked.

“I killed both tributes from Four,” Dean whispered. Eyes wide, taking in every detail, he watched Benny’s face. Would he be angry? They all had to kill in the arena, there was no way around it. There was a girl from 4 who won because the arena flooded and she was the only one who could swim, he didn’t think she killed anyone, but no one else got out without a lot of blood on their hands. And Dean was responsible for the blood of District 4.

Benny sighed and buttoned up his pants, then righted his shirt a little. Dean didn’t want him to go... Palms open, he reached for Dean, watching for any sign of “no.” Dean didn’t give him any. Even in the midst of a panic attack, he wanted to be held, be loved the way he never let himself...

Those large hands settled on Dean’s arms, rubbing up and down, soothing his frayed nerves. “We all did things we regret. That’s why we’re still alive. I wouldn’t blame any victor for what they did in the arena, not even those idiots from One and Two. I suppose you won’t blame me for bein’ part of the Career pack who killed the boy from Seven?”

His words tripped something else in Dean’s memory. The 64th Games... that was the one with the largest arena to date. It had strips of land, each more than a mile wide, representing the terrain of every district. It was considered the most “even” arena, giving every tribute the ability to excel on their own turf. The Career pack was ruthless that year, stalking strip by strip and cleaning other tributes out. Just as they got nearly everyone, the winner—Benny—took two spears and stabbed both tributes from 1 in the back. Dean remembered it because he’d done almost the same thing, when you got right down to it. After that betrayal, Benny retreated to the sea strip and used a net to drag anyone under and drown them.

By all accounts, Benny should have more nightmares than Dean did. And yet here he stood, calming Dean out of a flashback. If this man could keep himself together after what he did... well, that was someone Dean probably wanted to keep around.

He shook his head. “No. I don’t blame you.”

He leaned into the kiss Benny again, but he pulled away. Smiling softly, he started rearranging their clothes. “I like you Dean, this just might not be the best time, yeah?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

They got dressed again. If Dean let his hands linger on Benny a little more than necessary, Benny didn’t say anything. He didn’t seem to mind. Before the left their closet to rejoin the world, Benny pressed a kiss to Dean’s lips. Softer than the ones before, but full of that same fire. Yes, Dean thought to himself, this was definitely someone worth knowing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said before, since District 7 has multiple living victors, Dean has never had to mentor before, so he really is a newcomer in the Capitol, which is why he's just meeting Benny.


	10. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now Dean understood why Ellen married Bobby despite the Capitol attention it brought to Jo. No one understood, no one could. No one, except someone who’d been through the Games. After spending time with Benny... Dean didn’t need a bottle to make his nightmares stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I'm starting to take liberties. In the Hunger Games books, they mention that the tributes who get to the final eight have their families interviewed. I assume they Capitol would also want to interview the mentors because of how "close" they are to the tributes. That's where this chapter starts.
> 
> All typos are m fault, let me know if you find one. And as always, enjoy.

“Now, Dean,” Caesar Flickerman said. They were down to the final eight and Johanna was there, ripping her way through the arena with the ax Dean made sure was waiting for her. “Johanna Mason has proved to be an amazing fighter inside the arena. So different from the girl we saw at the reaping or in her interview. Tell me, whose idea was it to project such a... different façade?”

Dean smiled and he heard a few cheers from the crowd. That was all thanks to Ellen. Since he hadn’t been to the Capitol for so long, Dean needed a little mentoring himself on what exactly to do to get their adoration. It wasn’t hard. He was still young enough to be considered desirable to the citizens at large, just a few well placed “winning smiles,” as Ellen called them, and he had the whole city eating out of his hand.

“Well, Caesar, I can’t take the credit for that one. You saw the reaping. Johanna started it all right there. Girl’s had a plan the whole way, I’m just here to help her realize her goal.”

“And what would that be?” Caesar said in that knowing tone of his, like he was in on all the victors’ secrets.

Dean turned and smiled directly at a camera. “Winning.”

The crowd went wild and it took Caesar a minute to calm them down for the next question. His lips—lavender this year—turned down. “On a more serious note, this is your first time as mentor, yes?” Dean nodded. Caesar pursed his lips, pausing for a moment to make sure the crowd was hanging on his every word. “Could it have anything to do with... another Joanna who we lost in the arena?”

Just like that, Dean’s victor smile threatened to break. He liked Caesar, he really did... but the way he said “we,” like he lost Jo too. Like the Capitol lost some dear friend the same way he did. The Capitol didn’t lose her, it killed her. His eyes skated out into the crowd and found Ellen sitting with the other mentors. She felt it too, the hypocrisy of Caesar’s words. Shaking her head, she signaled for Dean to keep it together. It wasn’t just him he had to worry about now.

Somehow, he managed to hold himself together. He dropped his smile and nodded thoughtfully at Caesar’s question. “Yes. That most definitely had something to do with it.” He shook his head and sighed, playing for the cameras. It hurt to do it, but the wrong word could mean Johanna’s death in the arena. “When I heard her name called at the reaping, my heart stopped. It was like I was back at my own reaping, watching Jo go up there all over again. I knew I had to help get Johanna Mason back home to Seven, I owed it to my Jo.”

“Of course you did,” Caesar said. He continued on that track, asking Dean questions about his love life, if there was anyone new or if he was still broken up about Jo, the romance that never was.

This, this was exactly why he didn’t mentor. If he wasn’t a mentor, then he wouldn’t have to come to the Capitol and let his life be put on display every year.

He looked out into the crowd to find Ellen and draw strength from her. Instead, his eyes found Benny. Sitting a few seats away from Ellen, his tribute made it to the final eight as well. A week had passed since the start of the Games and their... meeting in the bar’s broom closet. Thankfully Benny didn’t make himself a stranger after that first awkward night. He continued to seek Dean out, and after a few drinks, they’d slink off to one of the secret spots Benny knew of from his years coming to mentor.

They kissed and touched and sought the solace only being with another victor could bring. Now Dean understood why Ellen married Bobby despite the Capitol attention it brought to Jo. No one understood, no one could. No one, except someone who’d been through the Games. After spending time with Benny... Dean didn’t need a bottle to make his nightmares stop.

He met Benny’s eyes and sent out a silent plea for help. Help him hold it together. Benny made a small gesture around his mouth. _Smile_. Dean did. It was an old trick: smile and the world smiles with you. And it might just get him through the reset of this damn interview. He turned his attention back to Caesar. “C’mon now, we’re not here to talk about me. We’re here to talk about my tribute. Soon to be,” he paused and smiled out at the audience. “Victor.” The crowd went wild.

After the interviews, Dean high tailed it to the bar in the lobby and waited for Benny to appear. A few Capitol citizens stopped and babbled at him for a while before heading on their way. Finally, Benny walked into the lobby. Dean went right over to him, clapping a hand on his shoulder like any friendly victor would do.

He leaned in and whispered, “Can we get out of here? Preferably somewhere with a bed.”

Benny smiled a little, it wasn’t nearly as bright as usual. He nodded down to the drink in Dean’s hand. “Depends. How many have you had?”

Dean looked down. He didn’t even realize he ordered a drink. He set it down on the bartop and moved them away from it. “I haven’t had anything. I just got that to keep up appearances.” A victor without a glass in their hand was a rare sight. He locked eyes with Benny. “I’m sober. I promise. Please, can we go somewhere?”

“I know a place.” He followed Benny out of the bar and out onto the Capitol’s streets. They didn’t speak, just kept their heads down and hoped no one recognized them.

Five blocks later and they were away from most of the partying. Benny stopped at the door on a pink block of flats and knocked. A woman answered, her eyes mint green and outlined with blue tattoos of bigger eyes. Her face lit up—literally, there was a gold sheen to her skin—when she saw Benny. “Benny!” she squealed. Dean looked around quick to see if she blew their cover. “Come in, come in!” She herded them both inside without a single question to who Dean was.

“Xeno.” Benny hugged her and kissed her on both plump cheeks. Xeno... the name rang a dim bell. “Love the new eyes.” Which set was unclear, at least to Dean. “Sorry to drop in on you like this, but could I trouble you for a room?”

“Of course! Your room is always ready for you.” They followed her down the hall and she let them into her second bedroom. A sewing machine was stuffed in the corner. “Don’t mind the machine,” she said. “With the Games going, I’ve had so many orders. Everyone wants to dress like their favorite tribute.” She flapped a hand at Dean. “Your girl is very popular. I can’t tell you how many red wigs I’ve made.”

Dean’s mouth dropped open. “You’re—”

But Xeno was already flapping her hands at Benny. “You two have a good night. I’ll be up late working if you need anything.” Just like that she was gone. Disappeared back down the hallway.

Benny shut the door and turned to Dean, whose mouth was still hanging open. “What?” he asked.

He didn’t know where to start. So he went for the obvious. “ _Your_ room? Just how many people do you bring here?”

At least Benny had the good sense to blush. He hung his head and rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks getting redder and redder. “That sounded bad, didn’t it?”

“That sounded _so_ bad.” But Dean tried to stifle a laugh. “So, how many people have seen _your_ room?”

“Just you.” Their eyes met and Benny was serious again. “It’s never been for anyone but me. Sometimes, it gets overwhelming an’ I need a night to myself. As long as I’m back in the Training Center by dawn, the Capitol doesn’t care. They assume I’m out all night partying with sponsors like a good mentor.”

Made sense. Hell, if Dean had a place like this, he might never go back to the Training Center. Which led to his next question. “That was a stylist! You trust her not to tell on you?”

Benny’s smirk returned. “Oh yeah. Xeno was my stylist. I was her last before she retired for some... more lucrative business. Let’s just say I know a thing or two about her illegal activities.” He shrugged. “She don’t say nothin’, I don’t say nothin’.”

“Right.” Dean let his eyes wander around the room. Ignoring the sewing machine like Xeno told him, it was a fairly basic bedroom. Nice, but without the extravagance frequently found in the Capitol. The bed was large, made up in silky sheets and covered with plush pillows. A chest of drawers and a mirror were the only other furniture. Then, the small bookshelf in the back corner caught his eye. Dean walked over and pulled one of the books out, opening it and running his fingers across the paper.

“This is good paper.” The pages were silky, almost fabric, like the kind of paper used in money. “We don’t make anything like this in Four. Where’s it from?”

Benny shrugged. “Don’t know. These all belong to Xeno. She thought I’d like them.”

“Have you read them all?” Dean turned around to find Benny less than six inches away from him, his broad chest moving a little too quickly. Dean’s heart hammered in his chest.

“Some,” Benny said, voice low. “A lot of them are old, banned by the Capitol. Xeno doesn’t know how to get rid of them without drawing attention to herself.” He pulled the book from Dean’s hands and returned it to the shelf. “But we didn’t come here to talk about paper, did we?”

Blue eyes sparkled at him and Dean’s stomach fluttered. “No. We didn’t.”

Benny took his hands and pulled him over to the bed. He sat down on the silky duvet and caged Dean between his thighs. Watching for any signs of a “no,” he started undoing Dean’s buttons, opening his jacket, then his shirt before moving to his pants.

Benny’s fingers started pulling at his belt and Dean couldn’t take it any more. “Why did you want to meet me? Really? I’m not a good person. No victor is. We all kill children—”

“To keep from being killed ourselves.” Benny kept his voice low and calm. He rested his hand on Dean’s belt but did not continue undressing him. “I already told you why, because you volunteered.”

“Half the idiots from One and Two are volunteers.” He was being difficult, he knew it, but Benny stayed just as calm and steady as ever.

He looked into Dean’s eyes and said, “I volunteered for my little sister, you already know that. What I didn’t tell you before is you’re kinda the reason I finally did it.

“I was gonna volunteer when I was seventeen. I was strong enough by then, I knew I could win.” He shrugged a ducked his head a little. “But the moment came an’ I got a little gun shy. For the rest of the day, I beat myself up about it, wastin’ another year when Elizabeth might not make it through the cold season.

“We watched the recap of all the reapings that night an’, I saw you volunteer. Not a kid from One or Two. You were someone who had almost nothin’ to gain from goin’ in someone else’s place. But while the whole country was watchin’ you, I was watchin’ the boy you went up for. I saw him cry and kiss his brother. He was alive because of you. I figured, if you went up for a kid you had no relation to, then I could get my ass in gear and go for my sister.”

He threaded their fingers together and brought Dean’s hand up to his lips. “You’re not just another volunteer, you’re the reason I finally had the guts to save my sister. Bad people don’t do things like that, Dean. And trust me, you are not a bad person.”

Dean didn’t say anything. He took Benny’s other hand in his and pushed him down until they both lay on the bed, touching as much as possible, breathing the same air. His lips brushed Benny’s in a soft kiss. “You’re a good person too.”

Benny smiled, then deepened the kiss. He rolled them over so he was on top and continued removing Dean’s clothes until he was naked. Still dressed, Benny let his hands wander all over Dean, touching as much of him as possible.

Dean tipped his head back and moaned. Benny took up the invitation and gently bit at his throat just as his fingers closed around his cock. “Fuck!” Dean gasped.

A warm chuckle poured down through him, filling him up like warm sap. Benny’s hand didn’t linger long. He gave a few soft, teasing pulls before resting both hands on Dean’s hips. Dean was by no means small, but Benny’s large hands still managed to wrap all the way around him, thumbs brushing the knobs of his hips while fingers squeezed his ass. He started moving down, leaving quick kisses wherever he went. Wet lips brushed his nipple and Dean arched up.

Finally, Benny was face to face with Dean’s cock. He licked at the warm flesh a little, making Dean melt into the bed. Suddenly the licks were gone and Dean opened his eyes just in time to watch Benny stand up and start taking off his clothes. He suddenly understood why the Capitol had a thing for layers. Slowly watching Benny uncover himself button by button was the most erotic thing Dean had ever seen. Calloused fingers flicked at a long row of buttons before Benny slowly shrugged out of his jacket, letting the expensive garment drop to the floor. The buttons on his shirt went a little faster as Benny got impatient too.

Dean’s eyes went wide and a low fire sparked in his belly. Benny’s chest was a firm and sculpted as any lumberjack, with a layer of soft fat cushioning the hard muscles. Dean imagined running his fingers through all that chest hair and found himself reaching out. Benny smiled and didn’t stop him. Dean gently dragged his nails from one of Benny’s firm pectorals down over his abs, coming to rest at the buckle of his belt. Their eyes locked, a fire burning in both of them now. The time for slow and teasing was well and truly over.

Ignoring his pants, Benny dropped back onto the bed and slid his arms under Dean’s hips, grabbing his ass. Without much more preamble than that, he opened his mouth and sucked Dean down to the root. “Oh, fuck!” Dean gasped, grabbing the sheets to keep from shouting.

Benny pulled off for a second and pressed kisses to the inside of his thighs. “Room’s soundproof. Make all the noise you want.” Benny’s warm mouth slipped down over his cock again while one hand ran lightly over his balls. It was all amazing, the way Benny knew exactly how to touch him to make him moan. Finally, the soft rub of Benny’s beard on the insides of his thighs was too much.

Dean moaned, he panted, he made more noise than he remembered making at any other time during his life. All this week, they’d been shoved into closets or back rooms for a few quick kisses and a hand down each other’s pants. He thought watching Benny lick his come of their fingers was awesome. It couldn’t compare to Benny’s hot mouth settled around his cock, sucking a licking like he was born to do it.

He arched like a bow, fingers grabbing at Benny’s hair. White noise filled his mind. He heard someone shouting, but it was very far away. Dean closed his eyes and for the first time in years, memories of the Games didn’t flicker behind his eyes. He was totally sober, and totally in love.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Xeno's "illegal activities" aren't really all that sinister. In my head, she's using her products and shipments to smuggle things around, certain luxury goods, stuff like that. Just things the Capitol wouldn't like. She's not supposed to be part of the resistance.


	11. Code Breaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean walked into the kitchen, his hand shaking as he reached for the obviously bugged phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter before the start of the rebellion. Dean and Benny met during Johanna's Games (the 71st) so there are a few years in between this chapter and the Quarter Quell. But I'm not going to make you sit through all of that.
> 
> Enjoy!

The phone rang and Dean’s head snapped up, all but forgetting the end table he was sanding. The living room in his too large house was essentially his work room. There was a small shed out back that he used when he needed to varnish and keep the fumes out of the house, but he actually liked the living room. Large windows gave him a great view of the trees surrounding the Victor’s Village. It was a good surrounding while he worked. Sometimes the trees of his home were the only things able to calm him out of a nightmare.

The phone was in the kitchen. It rang all the time, but Dean never used it. Bobby calling to ask John something, Cas calling from the doctor’s office to tell Sam to tell Dean not to miss his physical. That was the one problem with being best friends with the head doctor: Dean had to be healthy or Cas might kill him.

But Dean knew it was for him this time. After Johanna won and the celebrations were over, Benny stopped by their floor in the training center. Everyone was supposed to stick to their own floors (the Capitol didn’t like the idea of the districts talking to one another) but it was allowed for mentors in the case of alliances.

“Hey, brother.” Benny smiled but it wasn’t like normal. His tribute died with five left and Dean knew it weighed on him. Say what you will about Career districts, their mentors cared about their tributes. “I’m headed out now. Just wanted to give you my phone number.” He pressed a scrap of paper into Dean’s hand, their fingers lingering for just a second. “You do have a phone, right?”

“Yeah.” He scrambled around for a piece of paper and a pencil and scribbled down his number. “Give me a call whenever.”

Benny’s eyes twinkled. He touched the paper to his temple in a half salute. “I’ll do that. Have a safe trip home, Dean, Miss Ellen.” He gave a small bow and turned back to the elevator.

When he was gone, Dean turned around to find Ellen standing there. Of course she was. He stuffed the number in his pocket and crossed his arms over his chest, trying to pretend nothing happened. “What?”

Ellen just smiled at him. “You and Benny got to know each other pretty well these Games.” Dean heard the subtext under her words.

He nodded, cheeks suddenly a little warm. “Yeah. Is that... a problem?”

“No, no problem.” Ellen took a step towards him and took his hand, squeezing it softly. “You know Beetee Latier? Victor from Three?”

“Yeah. He’s a nice guy.”

Ellen gave him a _look_ and Dean listened carefully to her next words. “He an’ Bobby were talking about their talents. You know Beetee invents, right? He was tellin’ Bobby all about this new fangled microchip he made that listens to conversations.”

It was a sort of code everyone in Panem used. Need to mention a district? Mention their victor. Most people knew the names of victors, even the ones who weren’t from their own district. He heard other victors use this shorthand all week to talk about everything from energy shortages—District 5—to getting their hands on some of the more pricey seasonal fruit—District 11. Ellen mentioning Beetee and his inventions like this meant only one thing.

Dean brushed the dust off his hands and walked into the kitchen, his hand shaking as he reached for the obviously bugged phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, brother,” Benny’s voice said. “I thought I’d wait a day for you to settle in before giving you a ring. Didn’t call at a bad time, did I?”

“No, great time actually. Bobby just left.” Bobby had done no such thing. For the first week or so after the Games, he and Ellen didn’t like to see anyone. Dean didn’t blame them. “He was just tellin’ me something cool. You know Beetee?”

“Victor from Three? Yeah. Why?”

Dean tried to think of a way to tip Benny off to the bugs before their conversation... went anywhere. Same sex relationships weren’t illegal per say, they still weren’t encouraged. The Capitol needed more children for their Games. Let a male victor marry another man and no children followed. Not to mention they didn’t like people from different districts getting friendly. Keeping everyone divided was what kept the Capitol strong.

“Well, you know my talent. I make furniture. Beetee invents and he told Bobby that some of his microchips in my furniture to auto adjust comfort would make my stuff sell big. Beetee’s working on a whole bunch of chips, he said. Stuff for climate control, music, even for recording.”

“Huh,” Benny said. “Havta talk to him more about that next year. Sounds like somethin’ to think about.” Yes, Benny knew. Sure, their conversations would be highly censored and not as... involved as Dean wanted, but hopefully they’d stay under the Capitol’s radar.

They started talking about the most mundane things. The train ride back, what they planned to do this week, even the damn weather. Still, Dean could tell, under the banal words were messages of longing. “It’s kinda strange bein’ away from the Capitol. You get in a grove there, you know?” _I miss you. Do you miss me?_

“Yeah,” Dean answered. “It’s the first time I’ve been back since my Victory Tour and I forgot how amazing it is there. All the food and the people.” _Yes, I never thought I’d find someone like you._

“Speaking of the Victory Tour. When you swing through Four, they’ll take you to one of the fisheries.”

“Okay?” If this was part of the code, he wasn’t getting it.

“You’re only there for the day, but there are a few spots you should check out. There’s a really good view from fishery three. This nice bay, more like a cove. Kinda secluded but worth seeing.”

Ah, Dean got it now. “Sounds fun. They’ve got Johanna pretty booked though.” A chance to see Benny before the next Games, Dean wouldn’t let himself hope.

“I’ve been on a few Victory Tours. The district escort usually keeps a tight eye on the victor. To be honest, you aren’t needed much.”

During their next few calls, they got better at the code and managed to arrange a time to meet. The way Benny explained it, fishery three was built in front of a little cove. Hardly anyone went there. For years, Benny spent long days building a little shack nearby. Nothing fancy, he assured Dean, but it was on its own and no one knew about it. The perfect spot for them to spend the short amount of time they stole to be together.

The Victory Tour came and Dean was more agitated than usual. The tour always started in 12 and worked its way up before hitting the victor’s home district, then the Capitol. To Dean, it was just a long ass train ride that he couldn’t wait to get off of. But that was before he had something good waiting in District 4.

Like Benny said, Bettina did most of Johanna’s wrangling—sometimes literal wrangling with that girl—and Dean had no trouble slipping away for a few hours. “Be back for the dinner,” Ellen said when she caught him leaving the group. “You’ve got two hours boy, make it count.”

Following Benny’s coded instructions, Dean made his way behind fishery three towards the cove. The whole district was off today for the Victory Tour so there was no one to see the shady looking guy watching over his shoulder as he slipped between two palm trees and towards a tiny cabin built in the shade of a few more.

It was little more than four walls holding up a roof. It looked like a strong wind would knock it right over, but with what he knew of Benny’s craftsmanship, it was probably solid as a rock. In a way, it kind of reminded Dean of their old home, before he became a victor. A tiny little cabin set back in the woods. Sometimes he really missed it.

He nearly shouted when a hand closed on his arm, but Benny clapped a hand over his mouth. Dean relaxed. “Don’t sneak up on me!”

Benny chuckled, indifferent to Dean’s distress. “C’mon, let’s go.”

He led Dean to the cabin and opened the door. As soon as it closed behind them, Benny lunged at him, pushing Dean up against the door and delivering a much longed for kiss. Dean opened his mouth and let Benny’s tongue in, sucking on the warm piece of flesh the way they both loved. Benny moaned and thrust against him, his cock already rock hard.

He pulled away for a second— “Fuck, I missed you.” —then attacked Dean’s neck.

Dean tensed up again. “Not the neck!” Benny pulled back. “Bettina has me wearing this jacket tonight that shows my neck. She wants to show off my amulet. Sorry.”

Benny shrugged. “‘S okay.” He turned his attention to said amulet, his large, hook-scarred fingers caressing the cord before picking up the little forest god and holding it between his fingers. “I remember this. Xeno said it inspired my costume for the chariot ride. You were a wood god, so she made me a sea god.”

Not many victors continued to wear their tokens after the Games. Tokens were mostly there for comfort in the arena, they didn’t hold much significance other than a small piece of home to get you through the Games. After he returned, Dean tried to return the amulet to Gadreel. He refused, saying the forest god watched over him in the arena and it’ll keep watching over him here at home. Dean decided to humor the kid. He kept the necklace, and for some reason, he never took it off. No one seemed to notice or care.

Then, with Johanna in the Games, the whole Capitol was interested in it again. On their last day there, Dean saw no less than five different shops offering replicas in the form of brooches, hair accessories, earrings, or gaudy pendants. Bettina insisted it be front and center on the Victory Tour, and that they play up the “old world” superstitions of the forest god watching over Johanna in the arena.

Dean said as much and Benny nodded. “A district escort would say somethin’ like that. I think it suits you, though.” He dropped the amulet and trailed his fingers up Dean’s collarbone, to his neck. Dean shivered. “They wanna hold us up as gods, I say we let ‘em. If the Capitol wants to give me a weapon against it, I’ll take it.

“No rough stuff for you,” Benny continued, like he hadn’t just said the most treasonous thing Dean had ever heard outside of Bobby and Ellen. “Doesn’t mean you can’t mark me up.”

Needing no more prompting, Dean sunk his teeth into Benny’s neck, licking and sucking at tanned, sweaty skin. Benny moved them over to the bed—the only furniture in the cabin—and lowered them both down. He sat back and let Dean go as he bit a trail along his collarbone to his shoulders. Dean pulled away for a second to get them out of their clothes and bare more skin.

He sunk his teeth into Benny’s bicep and Benny groaned. “Oh yeah. More.”

Licking and biting his way down, Dean finally stopped just above Benny’s cock. He took the thick length in his hand, giving it a few strokes. “To be honest, I’m better with my hands. But I like learning new things.” He opened his mouth and started sucking on the head like a piece of candy.

Benny’s hips bucked and Dean knew he was trying to control himself. “Uh... yeah, learnin’, learnin’ new things is good.” Dean took more cock into his mouth and Benny dissolved into moans.

He braced his hands on Benny’s hips and licked down his cock, taking in as much as he could. His skin tasted like salt, like the sea Benny loved so much. Dean licked up as much of that taste as he could. He only had a few hours with Benny and he wanted to spend that time devouring every inch of this man. He wrapped a hand around the base of Benny’s cock and started stroking in time with his licks.

Large, strong fingers threaded through his hair, but not to push or tug, just to caress and hold, keep them close together for however long they were allowed. Dean reached out with his free hand and twined their fingers together, squeezing Benny’s hand. He squeezed back.

All too soon, Benny’s hips started to buck again. It was harder for him to control it this time. “Dean. I’m gonna—”

The rest of his words were lost to a shout. Bitter, salty come exploded into Dean’s mouth and he swallowed it away as fast as he could. This might be a secret cabin, but they didn’t want to leave evidence. When Benny was finished, he slumped back onto the bed, panting like he was drowning. Smiling to himself, Dean pulled off his softening cock and pillowed his head on Benny’s stomach, listening to his heartbeat slow and even out.

“Give me a second,” Benny panted.

“We only have about an hour.” They probably hadn’t wasted the whole first hour, but Dean didn’t want to chance being late. For one thing, Bettina would kill him, for another, Ellen would make sure it stuck.

“Alright,” Benny said a moment later. He didn’t sound as out of breath as he did before. “Come on up here.”

He grabbed Dean’s arms and guided him up, up, until he was straddling Benny’s face. Two large hands on his ass, Benny opened his mouth and licked all along Dean’s cock before pressing kisses to the inside of his thighs and the soft skin of his balls. Dean held onto the headboard for dear life, moaning and thrusting into Benny’s mouth.

As far as stupid went, this was near the top of the list. Sneaking off during a Capitol monitored tour through the districts, to meet up with another victor and say treasonous things before fucking each other’s brains out? They’d be dragged into the streets and shot. And yet, Dean found himself not caring. Every Peacekeeper in Panem could walk into this cabin right now and Dean would still count this as one of the happiest days of his life.

Over the next few years, they kept going, having as much of a relationship as possible. Neither of them mentioned where exactly they were going, how they had any sort of a future. Benny was there when Dean needed him, and Dean was there for him. It was good, it was really good. For a while, Dean managed to forget about the rest of the shitty world. Naturally, they could only go so long before the world turned them on their heads again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going off of Katniss and Peeta's Victory Tour in the books. It seemed to me that Effie did most of the actual scheduling and Haymitch was more just there for decoration. I think Dean would be able to slip away, especially if Johanna is as much as a handful as she seems to be, he would not be the priority.


	12. The Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean knew about a thousand ways to make a fire. From wood, paper, mulch, anything. All you needed was a few spark to start. He’d see that these sparks were fanned into a flame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's try this again. It didn't post the first time, so I lost all my chapter notes.
> 
> This is a shorter chapter to show Dean's reaction to the announcement of the Quell. I didn't repeat Snow's whole speech from the book because I didn't want to be too redundant. Some of my chapter titles are the same as the sections of the books. This is not on purpose, most of the time, the title just fit what was happening. Enjoy!

All of Dean’s furniture projects had been pushed out of the way and the actual living room furniture brought back in. They still didn’t have enough seating. Sam and John sat on the couch next to Ellen, a little older and a little more gray. Bobby passed during the harshest part of the winter and none of them were really recovered yet, Ellen least of all. Sam took to going over there every day to invite her to breakfast, lunch, dinner, anything to get her out of the house and among people again.

Cas sat next to Dean, squeezed together in one of the bigger armchairs, Anna and Naomi perched on the arms. Gadreel filled up a whole armchair with his wide shoulders and long legs, Gabriel sat on the arm. Michael, Raphael, and Balthazar—Cas’ three oldest brothers—lined up behind the couch. They were all focused on the TV as they waited for the mandatory programming to start. While every member of Cas’ family was aged out of the reaping, they still came to support Dean and Ellen. Even Raphael, the biggest asshole of them all, wouldn’t forget what Dean did to save two of his youngest brothers.

This year was the 75th Hunger Games, the Quarter Quell. Quells were usually... more extreme than the yearly Games. Ellen and John were the only ones who remembered the last Quell. That year, twice the amount of tributes were reaped. Dean couldn’t imagine it: forty-eight tributes, forty-seven children to kill. No wonder Haymitch Abernathy drank so much.

The Capitol’s seal flashed on screen with the anthem, followed by President Snow’s face. Balthazar usually cracked jokes about the President’s most recent round of surgery, but even he was silent. Snow went on about the last two Quells, before getting around to the main event. “And now we honor our third Quarter Quell.” A little boy stepped forward and offered a box to Snow. He opened the lid and took the card printed with 75 on the envelope.

All the pageantry... it was making Dean sick. Couldn’t they just get to it already? How many tributes would he have to mentor this time? Three? Six? How many children would be sent to die?

Finally, Snow began to read. “On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors.” The anthem sounded and the seal filled the screen again before fading to black.

The living room was so quiet, no one dared breathe. Twelve people stared at the blank screen, not totally sure if they’d heard right...

Cas was the first to break the silence. For both of them to fit in the armchair, Cas was half on Dean’s lap, one of Dean’s arms thrown casually over his shoulder. They’d been friends since they were toddlers, being close like this wasn’t uncommon for them, especially during Cas’ week-long suicide watches. His fingers gripped Dean’s arm, squeezing with strength he didn’t know he had. “Dean,” he whispered.

Half the eyes in the room focused on Dean, the other half on Ellen. They all worked it out by now.

“Cas,” Dean said, his voice low and soft, clearly controlling himself. “Get up.” He climbed off of Dean, but was reluctant to let him go. He held onto Dean’s arm until the last second, then grabbed Anna to make up for the loss.

They all watched him walk into the kitchen and pick up the phone, dialing the now familiar number. Benny picked up on the first ring. “Dean...”

The thoughts in Benny’s mind probably matched everyone else’s. Reaping from the pool of victors—there was a chance Dean would end up in the arena with Benny and Ellen. Dean’s thoughts, however, were already miles ahead. “If you’re not the one who gets reaped, I need you to be on that train to the Capitol.”

Benny swallowed hard. “A Quarter Quell where all my friends might be killin’ each other? If you think I’m not gonna mentor this year, you’re crazy.”

“Same here.”

He went to hang up before Benny’s voice caught him. “Dean. Don’t do anything stupid. You’re a good mentor, you’re worth more outside the arena than in.”

Dean smiled, though it was a little grim at the edges. “Nah, my days of volunteering are over. Blight, Axl, and Ray can take care of themselves.”

“Good.” They hung up without as much as a goodbye. They both had a lot to do before the Quell.

Dean walked back into the living room. All eyes were on him, but he only cared for Ellen. Sitting next to Sam, tall and strong with vitality, she looked so... old. Ellen was never old, not before this moment. “Don’t you dare volunteer for Johanna. She’ll be mad as hell, but that girl can handle herself,” he said.

“Alright,” Ellen said. Huh, he expected a fight, and the hard set of her jaw made him think something more was running through her mind. He didn’t have time to think about it now. Ellen was strong and capable, whatever plans she had were probably miles better than his own.

Dean turned to the others. He saw it written across their faces: fear, worry, pain and anger. Dean felt all of that too, but he was trying to keep a cool head. There were things that needed doing now. He’d have a chance to break down later. “Sorry to cut tonight short,” he said. They had dinner spread out in the kitchen, enough to feed a small army. “You guys can take as much food as you like, then clear out. Please,” he added. He wasn’t usually good with his words, especially now with so much to think about.

“Of course,” Balthazar said. His eyes skated over to Sam and John, then Ellen. “You need time with your family.” He and Michael started herding everyone out, not before Anna hugged Dean, squeezing him so tight, he thought he heard a rib crack. Then it was Gadreel’s turn.

Taller than Sam, he wrapped Dean up and almost lifted him off the floor. “It’s my fault,” he mumbled. “If you hadn’t volunteered for me—”

“Then you’d be dead. Stop trying to make me regret saving you, Gad.”

The boy—man now but he’d always be a boy to Dean—gave one last squeeze before letting Dean breathe again. There was a lot of dragging of feet and backwards looks, but eventually everyone was gone. Except Cas. If Dean thought Cas was leaving his side until the Games, he was crazy.

They ate dinner in silence. No one was really hungry. John gave Ellen one of the spare rooms to stay in— “You shouldn’t be alone tonight.” —and they all retreated to bed.

That night, Cas wrapped himself around Dean, his fingers balled up in Dean’s shit, making sure he didn’t leave without Cas knowing. Dean let him. He brushed his fingers through his dark hair until Cas finally fell asleep. It was fitful, probably filled with nightmares of Dean’s Games. All those horrible moments they had to watch, not knowing if he’d come back... Dean didn’t sleep that night. He held Cas’ shaking body, gentling him through nightmares. But he wasn’t thinking about Cas, not directly.

There were three memories—three sparks—of moments in his life when Dean knew the Capitol must be destroyed. The first, in the arena, watching Jo suffocate from a collapsed lung. The Capitol did that to her, it was the Gamemakers’ rock slide, it was their fault. He watched helplessly and knew, deep down, that he was going to see the end of this oppression. One day, there would be no more Hunger Games and he was going to be alive to see it.

The second was a smaller spark. It came when he sat at Bobby’s bedside, listening to old, tired lungs wheeze and cough in his sleep. Bobby was a victor, he had all the money in the world for the Capitol’s medicine, and still it wasn’t enough. The Games turned him into a drunk in constant poor health. Who might Bobby be if he wasn’t a victor? A cranky old man who worked at the mill? Maybe he’d be one of the coopers in town, making barrels to ship to 4 for storing seafood to go to the Capitol. Maybe he’d still be dead anyways, killed by the fallen tree that put him in his chair. Dean would never know. And as he sat there, listening to Bobby’s last, laboured breaths, he knew for the second time: the Capitol could not win.

The third spark came tonight. Snow’s words echoed in his ears: as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol... The Hunger Games were a tool of the Capitol, meant to divide the districts so they would never trust each other. But with the announcement of this Quell, the Capitol made its final mistake. The one thing all districts had in common was love of their victors. Take that away, and they’d turn. It didn’t matter who got reaped, not anymore. All victors were loved, or at the very least liked, by their home districts, more so by the citizens of the Capitol. If too many popular victors died, the Capitol could have a riot on it’s hands... from its own people.

Dean knew about a thousand ways to make a fire. From wood, paper, mulch, anything. All you needed was a few spark to start. He’d see that these sparks were fanned into a flame.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bobby died of pneumonia. It's treatable and survivable (I've had it, and here I am to tell the tale) but it hits older people harder. With the limited-ish medicine in the districts and Bobby's age, it would've been a death sentence.


	13. Bargaining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean shook his head. “He was one name in thousands. Odds like that, it’s the worst feeling in the world.”
> 
> Katniss stiffened a little and nodded. “Yes, it is.”
> 
> They stood in awkward silence for a minute. “Well, it was nice meeting you.” Dean leaned in to brush a goodbye kiss against her cheek, instead, he whispered in her ear. “Seven is with you. You can trust us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long chapter. There's a lot going on here and I didn't want to break things up too much. This is the week immediately before the Quell (when Katniss and the other victors/tributes are in training). Don't worry, I'm not going through the whole Quell, that would be boring. Let's just say, it's not just the tributes who need to make alliances.
> 
> Enjoy, and if you find a typo, let me know about it and it'll be caught and shot.

“Mr. Winchester,” one of the Capitol attendants called down the train compartment. It was just Dean, Bettina, and Blight sitting and eating. Furious about being reaped—Dean didn’t know what she expected, there were only two living female victors in 7—Johanna was tearing her room apart. For whatever reason, Ellen decided not to mentor this year. It was her first year without Bobby co-mentoring with her, so Dean understood.

He looked up at the attendant, holding out a cordless phone in front of him. “Yes?”

“Call for you.”

“Huh.” Dean got up from the table and took the phone. “Hello?”

“Dean,” Benny’s voice said. “I’m sorry to tell you, brother, but I’m not mentoring the victors from Four. I’m not on my way to the Capitol.”

Dean’s heart sank. “What? What the hell? I thought you said nothing could stop you from coming!”

Benny only had to say one word “Elizabeth,” and Dean knew why he stayed. “She begged, Dean, cried harder than when I volunteered. I was afraid it’d make her worse. She’s been doin’ so well these past few years—”

“No,” Dean sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “You were right to stay. If Sammy asked, I couldn’t say no to him either.”

“I’m sorry, brother.”

Dean’s mind started whirring, trying to adjust his plan to this new wrinkle. “Just stay alert.” These words were dangerous, especially over a Capitol supplied phone, but there was no other way. “And keep you ears open, yeah?”

“Yeah. I got it.”

They hung up and Dean returned the phone to the attendant. Ignoring Blight and Bettina, he set his eyes squarely on Johanna’s room. He had a plan but he needed her onboard. In the years since her Games, Johanna went from conniving and brilliant, to downright angry at the world in general and the Capitol in specific. Her rage boiled to the surface at every chance, which was exactly what he needed.

Like all those years ago, Dean walked down the hall towards the room reserved for the female tribute. He didn’t knock this time, simply opened the door and took a moment to survey the carnage. Whatever wasn’t bolted down was thrown against the walls of the compartment; vases of flowers; a hand mirror with matching hairbrush; even Johanna’s token, a small pin made of bronze and formed into the shape of a tree branch. He scooped it up from the floor and offered it to her. Johanna snatched it from his hand and pinned it back on her shirt.

“Sit down.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and suddenly, she was that girl again. A little skinny for her age, but strong, pretending to be weak to gain an edge in the Games. Johanna was a survivor. Dean never saw the resemblance between her and Jo, not until that moment. “No,” she growled.

“Do you wanna make it out of that arena?” Dean snapped back. “Then sit the fuck down!” Johanna glared at him. She did as she was told, not without dramatically kicking her legs out, making sure to hit Dean’s shins. He let that slide.

Mindful of the bugs in the room (though she probably destroyed a few through sheer dumb luck) Dean leaned in. “You’re angry.”

“Fuck right I’m angry!” she shouted back. “The deal was: I win their Games, I’m out for life. They can’t back out of that!”

“They can and they did. Nothin’ we can do now.” Johanna wasn’t fond of people invading her personal space but given the circumstances, Dean had no choice. He leaned in closer, whispering near treasonous words. “I will get you through this, but you have to do everything I say.” She gave the smallest nod. “You need to hold onto that anger. Every interview: shout your head off, blame the Capitol for anything you can think of. Haven’t you played by their rules? Didn’t you nearly give them your life? Stay angry, make sure the whole Capitol knows exactly how you feel.”

“Easy enough.”

“One more thing,” Dean said. “Make friends with those kids from Twelve.”

He expected another fight. He didn’t say he’d make her the Victor, they both noticed that. Dean was talking about survival, which meant he was possibly hoping to get more than one out of the arena. If last year’s Games proved one thing, it was that two could survive the Games. If two was possible, why not more? Johanna wasn’t stupid; if Dean knew how to get her in that “more” category, she’d follow his instructions. If anyone had the secret of getting people out, it was the kids from 12, Katniss Everdeen and—what was his name?—Peeta.

Instead of arguing, she simply sneered at him. “Fine. But I do it my way.”

Dean smiled. “I wouldn’t expect else.”

~

Hours later, all the victors, tributes, whatever, were gathered together waiting for the start of the opening chariot ride. A few mentors joined them, all milling around and talking to their friends, laughing like this was just any other day. Dean was surprised at how many friends he had here. He hadn’t mentored as much as most of them but he was a nice guy, plus, a lot of victors liked to drink and Dean was always down for that. He pushed his feelings away and focused on the kids from 12, specifically on Katniss.

Finnick Odair was talking to her, trying to draw her eyes to his barely clothed bottom half. She didn’t take the bait. As soon as he was gone, Dean swooped in. “Katniss Everdeen?” he said.

She looked up at him, her eyes darkened with makeup. She looked damn terrifying. “Yes?”

He held out his hand. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Dean Winchester, Victor of the 63rd Games. District Seven.” She shook his hand, more to be polite than anything else. This wasn’t her kind of deal, he could tell. “I make a point to meet fellow volunteers. Outside of the victors from One and Two.” They volunteered about as often as they changed clothes. It was a rare person who went for someone they loved. Even if he wasn’t interested in her... revolutionary properties, Dean wanted to meet the girl who volunteered for her little sister.

This got her attention. “Right, I remember you. You volunteered for that boy?”

“Not that you’d know to look at him, but he’s my best friend’s little brother. He was only twelve at the time.” He shook his head. “He was one name in thousands. Odds like that, it’s the worst feeling in the world.”

Katniss stiffened a little and nodded. “Yes, it is.”

They stood in awkward silence for a minute. “Well, it was nice meeting you.” Dean leaned in to brush a goodbye kiss against her cheek, instead, he whispered in her ear. “Seven is with you. You can trust us.”

He pulled back before she could say anything and walked away, waving at a few people as he made his way over to Johanna and Blight.

The chariot procession started and the few mentors were left behind. Dean walked over to Haymitch, standing with him a moment and watching the kids from 12 drive the crowd wild. Finally he said, “You interested in a conversation?”

Haymitch shrugged and leaned in. “Not here. Too many Capitol ears. Tonight.”

This wasn’t out of the ordinary. It was normal for mentors to discuss alliances in secret. The average Capitol attendant wasn’t paid well enough to ignore juicy gossip when they heard it, especially during the Games. The Avoxes were another story but better safe than sorry. “Usual place?”

“Usual place.”

Later that night, after getting everyone settled in—Blight went straight for the drinks cupboard while Johanna locked herself in her room again—Dean made his way to The Trophy Room. It was yet another bar where victors hung out, trying to get sponsors for their tributes, so it was seen as one of the hottest places to be. On opening night, it would be mobbed. So many people crammed themselves inside, no one would spare a glance for two old victors having a drink together. And no one would hear them over the din.

Dean managed to get the a table and sat down, waiting for Haymitch. A few minutes later he plunked down in the chair across from Dean, glass already in his hand. “So, what’s up?”

Dean leaned across the table, ostensibly to be heard over the crowd, actually to keep the conversation strictly between them. “Whatever you’ve got going, I want in.”

Haymitch arched an eyebrow at him. “You mean an alliance between Twelve and Seven?”

Dean might not be as involved as other victors, but he wasn’t stupid. For years now, there was always something bubbling under the surface of every conversation. The living victors seemed to fall in two categories: those who knew nothing, and those who tried to find out what you knew and if you were on their side. Since he got both his tributes out alive, Haymitch seemed... different. Like he knew something the others didn’t. If anyone had an in, it was Haymitch.

It was Bobby’s last words that lit his suspicion more than anything else. When the old man reached for him in the dark and grabbed his arm, his words nearly lost in hacking coughs. “What?” Dean said, squeezing Bobby’s hand. This was too much like Jo for him to handle and he started crying. They were all trying to keep it together for Bobby’s sake and he had to go lose it. “Bobby, what do you need?”

Bobby squeezed back, stronger than he’d been in years. “Get everyone to Thirteen.”

“Thirteen? District Thirteen?” Even the number was treasonous. “Bobby, you’re not making any sense.”

But he insisted. “Get to Thirteen. That’s where it starts.” And then, he watched Bobby take his last breath and close his eyes forever.

Pushing the memory away, Dean focused on the conversation. He didn’t want to use his trump card so quickly, but it looked like he had no other choice. “I want tickets to Thirteen and you’re how I get them.” Haymitch sipped his drink like Dean hadn’t said anything, but his eyes were bright with a smile. “Tell me what to do to get both my victors and the rest of my people to safety, and you have my loyalty.”

“Okay.” Haymitch nodded, considering a moment. “Problem with an alliance is, my girl doesn’t like your girl.”

Great, he gave Johanna one job and she was already messing it up. “I’ll talk to Johanna. But you know her, she’s a survivor. She’ll do anything to get into this alliance.”

“I see that.” Haymitch took another sip of his drink and peered around. No one was paying attention to them. “How many tickets you need?”

Eight from Cas’ family, two for dad and Sam, Ellen, then two more for Benny and Elizabeth. “Fourteen, including me.”

Haymitch’s eyes went wide. “Fourteen? Are you kidding me? How’d you come by that math?”

“It’s not just thirteen extra people. I wouldn’t bring you useless bodies, not without a few who can pull their weight.” He started ticking off on his fingers. “That’s two doctors, at least four fighters, and three victors.” He figured victors had a use to any resistence, sway the population of the Capitol or something. “That’s gotta be worth fourteen spots.”

“Three victors? Who?”

“Me, Benny and Ellen.”

Haymitch shook his head. “Not Ellen, Ellen stays in Seven.”

“What?” This whole conversation was whispered, so while Dean didn’t have the volume to show his anger, it was clearly written across his face. “No way I’m leaving Ellen. She’s done more for me—more for most victors—than anyone!”

Haymitch grabbed Dean’s wrist, literally holding him down before his gesturing brought too much attention. He stared Dean right in the eye and whispered, “Ellen doesn’t get a ride to Thirteen because Ellen is right where she needs to be. She’s more useful in Seven.” Dean still wasn’t getting it. Haymitch rolled his eyes at his stupidity. “She started an underground knife club there, right?”

“Right.”

“Why did she do that? For kicks?” He shook his head. “No, Ellen’s been part of the rebellion for a very long time.”

So... the highly illegal secret knife club Ellen started out of boredom was actually a cover for the treasonous seed of the revolution in 7? Dean shook himself and downed the rest of his drink. He was farther out of the loop than he thought. He pressed on. “Do we have a deal?”

Haymitch considered for a moment, then finished the rest of his drink. “I’ll talk to my contact.” They shook hands, acted like the friends they were and parted ways.

For the rest of the night, Dean tossed and turned. He gave up on sleep just before dawn and lay there, staring up at the ceiling. Since the Quell was announced, he pushed everything down, concentrating on one goal: get his loved ones to safety. Those kids from 12 started a storm last year and fuck if Dean wasn’t going to ride it. If it was just him, dad and Sammy, he’d take them out into the wilds of 7. They all knew how to live off the land, lay low until the storm blew over. But it wasn’t just about them. There were so many other lives he held dear, and he would protect them at all cost.

The next day, he returned to The Trophy Room and waited for Haymitch. They didn’t set a time for him to tell Dean what his “contact” had to say, but he knew Haymitch’s drinking habits. He’d be here sooner or later.

A hand clapped onto his shoulder and Haymitch slid onto the stool next to him. He ordered a drink and took a few sips before looking at Dean. “Congratulations kiddo, you got your wish. Thirteen tickets.”

Dean almost didn’t believe it. Was it really that easy? “Seriously?”

“Oh yes. Seems you got a pretty powerful friend over there.”

He did? How was that possible? Dean didn’t know anyone from 13. Hell, six months ago, he didn’t know there was a District 13 anymore. “Who?”

Haymitch shrugged. “I don’t know, man, but the okay came from high up.” He quickly finished his drink and got up. Clapping Dean on the back, he leaned down and whispered in his ear. “Welcome to the rebellion. Be ready to move at any second.”

After Haymitch left, Dean stayed and finished his drink, lingering for a while. He didn’t want to draw too much attention. As soon as he was clear, he went right to the Training Center and locked himself in his room. Picking up the phone, he dialed his home number, not surprised in the least when Cas picked up.

“Hey Cas, it’s me. I can’t talk long, but I made... an arrangement.”

“An arrangement? Dean, should we really be talking about this on the phone?” He told Cas about the bugs years ago, betting the phone in the doctor’s office was monitored too.

“It can’t wait until I see you back home,” he covered. Let anyone listening think twice about what he really meant. “I need you to get your whole family and keep them at my house, at least until the end of the Games.”

There was a long silence. “Of course,” Cas said. “With so many victors in this year, you want us to have the support of the whole family. I’ll let everyone know.”

Either Cas was better at understanding Dean’s hastily coded words, or he knew more about the rebellion than he let on. Whatever the answer, half Dean’s problems were taken care of. “Thanks, Cas.”

They hung up and Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. Half his family was taken care of. Getting a message to the other half... might not be as easy.

~

Dean walked onto the fourth floor of the Training Center and almost immediately covered his eyes. “C’mon, Finnick!”

Finnick Odair sat up from the couch and smirked. “Fine, I’ll put my pants back on.” There was a rustling sound and the rip of a zipper. “Okay, you can uncover your precious eyes now.”

He slowly lowered his hand and saw that yes, Finnick was mostly clothed now. While Finnick had quite a reputation, Benny swore up and down the kid wasn’t like that. He was sweet and down to earth, this was all an act for the Capitol. Dean knew all about that. He’d done his fair share of acting to get out of the limelight, while Finnick was caged inside of it. A few different choices, and he could’ve been just like Finnick, passed around by the Capitol, forced to pretend he liked it...

Dean shook the thoughts from his mind and walked over to the couch. “Do you have a second?”

“Sure.” Finnick flopped down, spreading his knees wide to show himself off. “Here to talk alliances?”

Dean smiled. “How’d you guess?”

“Well you’ve got no worry from me. Johanna and I go way back.” True. Their ages at the time of their Games and the years in between put them around the same age. It was natural they’d be friends.

Dean looked around. No Capitol attendants in sight, no Avoxes either. He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. “Can you get a message to Benny? A secure message? From your hand to his, no one in between.”

Finnick eyed the paper. “How about a trusted intermediary?”

“How trusted?” The more people who saw this, the more danger they risked. Dean coded it as best he could, but there were only so many secret ways to say “take Elizabeth and wait at your secret cabin.”

He shrugged. “I trust her about as much as you trust Benny.” A small smile pulled at Finnick’s lips, a real, genuine smile, and Dean knew exactly who he was talking about. Annie Cresta. She won the year after Johanna did, and the way Benny told it, Finnick was stupidly in love with her. He and Finnick won back to back Games as well, so they were close, close enough for Dean to trust anything he said about Finnick, despite what he might hear from other, less informed parties.

“Okay.” Dean passed him the slip of paper.

Finnick studied the paper, but didn’t open it. “You know, Benny talks about you. Your relationship. Usually to anyone who will listen,” he said, so soft, it was almost a whisper. “All his life, he cared about one person. He thought about Elizabeth first, last and always. Then, you came along. To hear him talk about you, I think you must walk on water.”

Dean ducked his head, hiding his face. Ask anyone in 7 and they’d probably give the same answer. Once Dean had a few in him, he couldn’t help but sing Benny’s praises. But they weren’t in a relationship. How did that word even apply to them? They had two weeks a year, a month if the Games went long. Two weeks of quick hand jobs in closets and midnight fucks in a secret room they had to leave before dawn. What kind of a relationship is that? They tried not to talk about it, before they realized how doomed their affair really was. Yet, Dean was going to great length and danger to get Benny and his sister to safety. He guessed that counted for something.

“I gotta admit,” Dean whispered. “I think he’s pretty great too.”

Finnick smiled again and tucked the message away. “I’ll let him know.”

And now it was down to waiting. Waiting for... what? Dean didn’t even know. Not until he watched Katniss Everdeen aim an arrow at the forcefield surrounding the arena and half the lights in the Capitol went dark.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Given what we know about Finnick's situation in the book, I think he'd be just the kind of person Benny would befriend and want to protect. I also wanted to give both Benny and Dean other victors they were close to. Dean has Johanna Mason, and Benny has Finnick Odair.
> 
> Since the books are from Katniss' POV, we only saw the Haymitch she knew. In my mind, he probably acts differently in the Capitol and the other victors (like Dean) have noticed something building with him for years. I mean, considering his place in the rebellion in the last book, it doesn't seem like he just jumped in overnight as soon as he got Katniss and Peeta. He seemed familiar, which makes me think he was making inroads for a while. Katniss just didn't think about that.


	14. Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Standing at the entrance of the hangar was a small man, his hair a little grayer than when he last saw him, his blue-gray eyes deeper and older than he seemed. Who’d imagine this small, unassuming man was the father of giants like Gadreel or Michael? Dean was looking at his “friend” inside District 13, Cas’ father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter, but I found a good stopping point. This fic is complete, I promise. I'm posting chapters whenever I have time. If you find typos, let me know and I'll take care of them!

At first, everyone was quiet. The people of the Capitol weren’t used to power outages, but anything flew during the Games. When the orange safety lights flickered on, there was some murmuring, which quickly turned to panic.

People ran and pushed, jostling Dean and each other to get out onto the street. Suddenly, a hand grabbed Dean’s shoulder and pulled him through a door at the back of the bar. The sodium yellow of the safety lights reflected off Haymitch’s smiling face. “Gotta move, kid.”

Dean didn’t remember what happened after that, not completely. He followed Haymitch through a series of doors and allyways, then the back hallways of a few strange buildings, trying to keep his wits about him as the Capitol screamed in panic. Finally, they turned a corner and a hovercraft was waiting for them. Haymitch climbed the ladder and Dean followed.

Now, he was pacing back and forth in a hangar, waiting for the hovercrafts carrying his family to arrive. Haymitch assured him everyone was picked up, Cas and his siblings, dad and Sam, Benny and Elizabeth. Seven was about as far away from 13 as you could get but 4 was closer. By all rights, Benny should be here by now.

“Dean Winchester?” Dean stopped cold. He knew that voice, but he hadn’t heard it in so long... no, it wasn’t possible.

He lifted his head and followed the sound. Standing at the entrance of the hangar was a small man, his hair a little grayer than when he last saw him, his blue-gray eyes deeper and older than he seemed. Who’d imagine this small, unassuming man was the father of giants like Gadreel or Michael? Dean was looking at his “friend” inside District 13, Cas’ father.

In his less sober moments, Dean and Cas talked about what they might say to him, if they ever saw him again. Cas was always torn between cold silence and a litany of guilt for missing most of his childrens’ childhoods. Dean’s answer was the same every time: “The day I see him is the day I feed him his teeth.”

Here was his chance. Yet all Dean managed was, “Hey Chuck.”

“Hey Dean,” Chuck said. He walked over to him, stopping just out of swinging range. Any other day, it was a smart choice. Today, Dean was too fried to think about anything other than the two hovercrafts carrying his family and why they weren’t here yet.

“For a long time, I told myself the first thing I’d do if I ever saw you again was punch your lights out.” He looked Chuck up and down. He wore the same gray uniform of everyone here, with the small addition of military rank bars on his sleeves. “But now, I take it you’re the one who assured my family was on the list to save. Am I right?”

Chuck nodded. “Yes. My family as well.”

“No,” Dean snapped. With those few words, Chuck opened the cork on Dean’s anger. He stepped closer to the little man, getting right in his face. “ _My_ family, not yours. I’m the one who spent the last twenty years taking care of them! Making sure they had enough food! That Cas stayed in school instead of working to feed the kids! I’m the one who went to the fucking Hunger Games in Gadreel’s place so Cas wouldn’t have to! I’ve done more for your family than you’ve ever done!” It took all he had not to take a swing. He balled his hands into fists instead.

“You’re right,” Chuck said. Dean was right in his face, more than close enough to do some serious damage. Still, he stayed put. “After my Mary died, I didn’t know what to do. I went for a walk to clear my head... then I didn’t stop. Two days later, a hovercraft from Thirteen picked me up and I’ve been here ever since.” He shook his head. “I’m not proud of what I did to get here, but I’ve done a lot of good for Thirteen. For the rebellion.”

“You should’ve been doing a lot of good back in Seven,” Dean hissed.

Chuck shrugged. “Maybe. But then, you wouldn’t be here, would you?”

Dean hung his head. And now he owed the man he hated more than life. It didn’t sit well with him, but what choice did he have? Like it or not, Chuck did fulfill one fatherly duty, ultimately, he did get his family to safety. Didn’t mean Dean had to like it.

The hangar door opened, calling Dean’s attention away from Chuck. Not just one hovercraft, but two flew in, one right after the other. Dean’s whole body froze. What were the chances?

The bay door of one opened up and a sea of familiar faces met him. “Dean!” Cas shouted.

“Dean!” Sammy’s deep voice called. They all rushed out of the hovercraft, the whole crew: Cas’ brothers and sisters, Sam and their father. They were all here.

They both ran over to him, almost knocking Dean back. His brother and Cas both wrapped around him, hugging tighter than the day he left for the Games. Cas’ cheek was pressed against his and he felt Cas’ tears. Happy tears, he hoped. They were all alive, they were safe.

“Raphael stayed behind,” Cas said, his voice tight. “When we told him you were with the resistance, he didn’t believe it. Even when the hovercraft showed up, he wouldn’t come.”

“Raphael always was a difficult one,” Chuck said.

Just like that, he had the attention of the room. His children stared at a man they thought was dead, no one knowing what to say. John stepped out from behind Gadreel and walked over to Chuck, placed a hand on his shoulder. “Chuck,” he said.

“John. Thank you for bringing my family to me.”

“Thank Dean.” John turned around and went back to his sons.

As happy as he was to have his family safe and sound, Dean was focused on the second hovercraft. A gurney holding a person covered in a bloody mess of bandages was wheeled away. If that was a medical transport, did that mean Benny—

“Dean!”

Dean’s head snapped up to see Benny pushing a woman in a wheelchair. He smiled wide and looked unharmed, better than that. He looked perfect. Dean’s world narrowed to the sight of Benny, safe and alive, and here. He broke away from Cas and Sam and ran across the hangar, into Benny’s open arms.

What little time he and Benny had together in the Capitol was spent in back rooms and hidden places, pulling at clothes and needing to feel each other as fast as possible. They kissed often enough, but sometimes it got in the way of other things, like mouths pressed against warm skin and tongues licking paths downwards. They had so little time to begin with, every moment counted. There were no time keepers here, no one expecting them somewhere in a half an hour, no one who needed them to be anywhere but in each other’s arms. So for the first time, Dean wrapped his arms around Benny and kissed him like they had all the time in the world.

After what seemed like forever, they broke the kiss. “Hi,” Dean said lamely, staring into Benny’s eyes.

He smiled back. “Hi.”

“Eh-hem.”

The voice was too soft for Cas’ brash sisters. Dean followed the sound to a smiling Elizabeth. Her eyes reflected the seas of their home, just like Benny’s. Even sitting in a wheelchair, her face was round and healthy. Her kind smile made it easy to understand why she was the apple of Benny’s eye. “Nice to finally meet you, Dean.”

His face flamed and he tried to put a respectable amount of space between himself and Benny. Benny wasn’t having it. Arm wrapped around Dean’s waist, Benny turned to his sister. “Elizabeth Lafitte, I’d like you to meet Dean Winchester. Dean, this is my sister Elizabeth.”

“Nice to meet you.” He reached out his hand for a shake and she took it, using him as a support to climb to her feet. Dean’s eyes went wide. “Don’t you need that?” he sputtered as one of the medical staff wheeled the chair away.

“Nah.” Elizabeth shook her head and linked arms with Dean. “Ever since Benny won the Games, I’ve been stronger than ever. I only use it now for long trips into town. We figured the medical staff here might have better use of it.”

“That’s why we were late,” Benny said. “There was need for an emergency medical transport and we had to detour. But we’re all here, safe an’ sound.”

“Good,” Dean said. “Good.”

With Elizabeth holding onto one arm and Benny on the other, Dean relaxed for the first time in days. Sam and dad were safe, so was Cas’ family including their good for nothing father. Ellen was solid back in 7, Haymitch assured him. As leader of the rebellion there she was in a fair amount of danger but her well trained soldiers saw that the Capitol didn’t gain as much as a mile on them. And they had ambitions to destroy one of the big dams, so she was plenty busy. For the first time Dean could remember, he didn’t have to worry about anyone.

His step faltered and twelve people ground to a stop. Dean pulled his arm away from Elizabeth, not wanting to jar her as he tried to regain his balance. It didn’t work and his head started to spin. “Dean?” Sam asked. His face swam into view, a little dark around the edges. The world was... hazy.

“Dean?” Another voice, Benny. His grip on Dean tightened.

Darkness started rolling in. His head felt heavy, the rest of his body unresponsive. The room around him spun and he had to close his eyes to keep from throwing up. The last thing he heard before he passed out was Benny’s panicked voice. “Dean!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Haymitch was on the hovercraft that pulled Katniss out of the arena, but the more I thought, the more I knew Dean wouldn't trust anyone but Haymitch. If some other member of the rebellion tried to get Dean to follow them, you bet Dean would throw up a big FUCK NO to that. In the book, it isn't clear how much time passes between Katniss' firing the arrow and regaining consciousness in the hovercraft, so it's possible Haymitch got Dean onto a hovercraft, then transferred over to the one holding Katniss. This is mostly to make me happy, so feel free to believe whatever you want to about how the timelines fit.


	15. Normal for the First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean leaned against Benny’s chest and willed his heart rate back to normal. “Sorry. I’m not used to...” Being taken care of? Unknown surroundings? The shady and mysterious District 13 where all his loved ones had a place? All except him and Benny?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're in he home stretch! But don't worry, I've still got another plot twist planned. Dean isn't so good at settling in with District 13, so things are going to unravel pretty quick.
> 
> If you see a typo, let me know and I'll take care of it. Enjoy. :)

Bright lights and sterol white assaulted Dean’s eyes. He closed them again and groaned. “Dean?” Sam’s voice said.

“Sammy?” His throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper. “Water?” he wrasped.

A straw pushed between his lips and cool, refreshing water filled his mouth, soothing his aching throat. “Dean,” Sam said again. “How do you feel?”

“Fine.” Despite lying in a hospital bed (bright lights, white walls, wasn’t too hard to figure out) and the million little aches everytime he moved, Dean felt great. Better than he had in... in years. “Sammy. What happened?” His eyes adjusted to the light and he saw his brother sitting at the edge of his bed. He wore the gray uniform of District 13, but he was smiling.

“They said it was exhaustion,” Sam said. “After you knew everyone was safe, your body started shutting down, getting the rest it needed.”

Made sense. “Yeah, I haven’t slept since...” He thought about all those sleepless nights in the Capitol, or on the train. “Since the reaping.” He leaned back into the pillows.

Sam rested his hand on Dean’s arm and gave him a squeeze. “Well, you deserved it. You’ve been going full on taking care of me since you were, what? Four? You deserved a rest.”

“And a rest I’ve had. Bring me up to speed. How long have I been out?” Strong and awake enough to hold his own glass, Dean took a few more slow sips while Sam talked.

“It’s been two and a half days. They’re so efficient here, they’ve already got Cas and Anna working in the hospital. Cas was just in here checking on you. Michael, Balthazar, dad and me are ‘soldiers.’ Naomi’s working with their intelligence people. They’ve got Gabriel working with their propaganda team.” He rolled his eyes. “Apparently they finally found a use for his big mouth.”

Dean chuckled. “Glad someone did.”

Sam continued. “Gadreel started training as a medic.” Made sense. Back home, he was starting to assist Cas back at the doctor’s office. Nothing big, mostly paperwork and filing, maybe a little observation, but Cas was confident his brother would make an excellent doctor one day. “And,” Sam smiled, “get this. Gad is head over heels in love with Elizabeth.”

Dean’s eyes went wide. “What? It’s only been two days.”

“I don’t know, man.” Sam shrugged. “You know that kid better than I do.”

He thought about his limited knowledge of Elizabeth. During their heavily coded phone calls, Dean and Benny took turns gushing about their siblings. He told Benny about Sam studying the local laws, hoping to maybe be mayor someday—of course, this was before the rebellion—and Benny talked endlessly about Elizabeth going down to the city’s group home and delivering their extra food to the kids there. She even baked for them, bringing treats she found in some of their mother’s old recipe books. Feeding the hungry, that alone would make her special in Dean’s eyes, but to hear Benny talk, she was an angel and everyone in District 4 seemed to agree.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Gad would fall for her like a quart of wood.”

Sam’s lips turned down in a frown. “Something else you probably want to know. They didn’t get Johanna out of the arena.”

“She’s dead?” Dean leaned back against the pillows and covered his face with his hands. “Damn it.”

Sam shook his head. “As far as we know, she’s alive.”

“As far as we know?” Dean turned the words over in his head. The grim set to Sam’s mouth said it all. His blood froze. “The Capitol got her.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. They did.”

“Fuck!” He thrashed around, wishing for a wall to punch, or an ax in his hand, anything to channel his rage. “I promised I’d get her out,” he said. “I promised her, Sammy. It’s the only trust that girl ever had in me and I fucked it up.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Sam’s hand was on his arm, trying to soothe him enough so his heart rate didn’t spike and summon the nurses. Or worse: Cas. “They’re working on a plan to get her back. The Capitol got Peeta too. The resistance needs them all on our side. They’ll get Johanna out.”

“Alright.” Dean managed to calm himself down a little. From what he’d seen of 13 so far, they were more than up to the task. He might not be able to save Johanna, but they would. He couldn’t ask for more.

The hospital doors swung open and Benny walked in, his head down, shoulders slumped. Dean had never seen him like that. Instantly worried, his thoughts slipped away from Johanna. “Hey there,” he said.

Benny’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. “Dean, you’re awake!” Steps coming a little quicker now, he pulled up a chair next to Sam, his hand grabbing for Dean’s. He stopped suddenly and glanced at Sam, then settled for gripping the rail of the bed. “We were real concerned about you,” he said. His smile was gone, but his eyes were wide and bright, taking in everything he could about Dean—heart rate, his vitals, all of it.

Sam shook his head. “Benny, I watched you put your tongue down my brother’s throat in front of our entire family. I don’t care if you hold his hand.”

Benny’s cheeks went a little red. “Thanks, Sam.” He took Dean’s hand in his and Dean sighed, his eyes fell shut and he concentrated on the feeling of Benny’s warm fingers pressed against his. There were no more barriers, no more hoops they had to jump, no more secret meetings and coded phone calls. After years feeling like fugitives in their own skin, they were finally free.

Dean opened his eyes and saw his brother smiling. “Well, I better get going. Got a schedule to keep.” He clapped Benny on the shoulder and gave Dean a light nudge. “I’ll be back for dinner.”

“Schedule?” Dean asked.

“Yeah.” Sam held out his arm. Printed in purple ink was his schedule: 0700 Breakfast; 0730 Advanced Gun Tactics; 0900 Advanced Planning... “I will say one thing for District Thirteen, they run a tight ship.” He gave one last wave and left the hospital.

The door swished shut and it was just them. Benny rubbed his thumb across the back of Dean’s hand and sighed quietly to himself. Suddenly, a laugh broke from Dean’s chest. “What’s the joke?” Benny asked, a little startled.

“Nothin’.” He shook his head and laughed again. “I just think this is the first time we’ve been alone together in years.”

Benny peered around. There were no other patients in this ward, all the nurses and doctors were busy elsewhere, he couldn’t even see anyone out in the hall. “You know, I think you’re right. Best not waste it.” He stood up from the chair and leaned down over Dean, pressing their lips together.

It wasn’t like the kiss in the hangar, or like any other kiss they’d shared before. This wasn’t rushed and there was no snapping of teeth on lips or sucking on tongues. There were hardly any tongues at all. Just the soft press of Benny’s chapped lips against his, the tips of their tongues touching in a small _hello_ before pulling away. Dean looked forward to more kisses like that.

Benny pulled back but stayed where he was, leaning on the bed rail, his face inches from Dean’s. “What do ya say we get you outta here?”

Dean groaned. “Yes, please.”

Benny rang the call button and Cas showed up. After some fussing (Cas) and some grumbling (Dean) and some negotiating (Benny) Dean agreed to leave the hospital in a wheelchair but not to continue to use it for the next few days. “I’ve been asleep for two days,” Dean said. “I need to stretch my legs.”

Cas rolled his eyes as he wheeled Dean down the corridors to the apartment unit that supposedly belonged to him and Cas. The apartments only fit two and Sam was next door with their dad. “Like you two are going to get out of bed until dinner,” Cas mumbled.

Benny choked on a snort. “Wow, Cas, tell us what you really think we’re going to do,” Dean snapped back.

“Please. I’ve watched you pine for Benny for the past four years. The first moment you’re in a room alone together and you don’t have intercourse?” Benny choked again. “I’m surprised you didn’t try it back in the hospital.”

Cas left them at the door and went to return the wheelchair to the hospital, leaving Dean and Benny standing awkwardly together in the corridor. “So... how do these things work?” Dean didn’t have a key for the apartment that supposedly belonged to him, but there also wasn’t a keyhole. Or a door knob.

“Like this.” Benny grabbed his hand and pressed Dean’s thumb to the small gray pad next to the door. It swung open, revealing a very uniform (and very small) apartment.

Dean stuck his head inside. “Man, how does Sammy even fit in one of these?”

There were two beds on either side of the room, a small sink, and two sets of shelves and drawers. One set of shelves had spare white uniforms that Dean saw in the hospital, so he assumed that was Cas’ side. He sat down on the other bed. The mattress was good at least.

“Shelves are for clothes,” Benny explained. “The draw there is for personal items. Not sure if you had any with you. When they checked you into the hospital, Cas took all your clothes and put them away in there.” He shrugged. “Around here, they don’t consider Capitol fashion to count as clothing.”

Dean never had many personal objects, there was a picture of his mother safe at home, and he never brought anything to the Capitol with him. Nothing except— “Shit.” His hand flew to his neck. The familiar leather cord holding the forest god was gone. He stood up from the bed and launched himself at the drawer. The room was so small, it was less than half a step.

He ripped open the drawer and started tearing through the stuff in there, sometimes literally. “Hey, hey.” Benny grabbed his hands and stilled him. Large, scarred fingers calmy sifted through the drawer and managed to find the necklace tucked into the pocket of a jacket. Dean bent his head to let Benny slide the amulet on. “You think Cas would let this thing get lost? No way.”

“Thanks.” Dean leaned against Benny’s chest and willed his heart rate back to normal. “Sorry. I’m not used to...” Being taken care of? Unknown surroundings? The shady and mysterious District 13 where all his loved ones had a place? All except him and Benny?

“It’s okay. Well figure it all out.” Arms still around Dean, he sat them down on the bed. “You did a lot to get us all to safety. Maybe you didn’t know the whole score, but that’s fine. We’re alive and that’s what counts.” Benny smiled. “And, you saved my baby sister. That alone is worth more to me than anythin’ in the world.”

Dean smiled a little. “Thanks Benny.”

“No trouble. Now—” he grabbed Dean’s shoulders and pushed him back down onto the bed, “I promised Cas I’d have you rest a little. An’ I do not break my promises.”

Benny’s hands started pulling at the tie around his waist. “Oh?” He lifted his hips to help slide the scrub pants down and off. “And what is this restful activity you have planned?”

Benny’s fingers closed around his cock and Dean moaned. “I'm gonna ride you until you forget your own name.”

He yanked off Dean’s scrubs—Dean refused to leave to hospital wearing the gown so Cas pulled some strings—and got started on his own clothes. As soon as the gray uniform of 13 hit the floor, Benny straddled his hips, winding their fingers together.

After taking a second to appreciate the way Benny’s cock rested against his, Dean got himself together enough to ask, “You say you’re gonna ride me. Do we have the stuff for that?”

Benny held up a small bottle no bigger than his thumb. “Medical grade lubricant.”

“Did you steal that?”

Benny stuck his nose in the air as he squirted some lube into his palm. “O’ course not. They take stealing very serious here in District Thirteen. Cas requisitioned me some for... hygiene purposes.”

Benny’s large hand circled Dean’s cock, spreading the cool, slick lube all over. “Fuck,” he moaned. His fingers grabbed tight to Benny’s hips. Once Dean was taken care of, Benny put more lube on his fingers and reached around behind himself.

They hadn’t done... this, too often. Mostly, they only had time for a quick blow job or a hand down each other’s pants before they had to return to the world. Plus, with the Capitol’s general feelings on people having sex for something other than babies, lube was hard to come by. It was a luxury even a victor couldn’t afford.

“You need some help with that?” Dean offered.

Benny smirked. “Nah, chief. In my free time, I’ve been... experimentin’ a little. Reckon I’m better prepared for this than you are.”

“Oh yeah? You think so?”

Benny’s hand, still slick with lube, grabbed his cock and lined them up. He started to sink down and Dean grabbed his hips, a low hissing breath squeezing out between his teeth. “Yeah, I do,” Benny said, a little breathless.

It took a minute, but when Benny was fully seated, he let out a breath and took Dean’s hands, lacing their fingers together. He started slow, just rocking really. Even that made Dean’s toes curl. Benny was so hot and tight inside, and Dean couldn’t believe this was happening. Here they had all the time in the world to be together and he was about to blow.

“Benny,” he panted. “This is—fuck, it’s too much.”

“Tha’s okay.” He took Dean’s hand and rested it on his own cock. “We’ll get better at it.”

He laughed. “I think we’re already pretty good.”

He started stroking Benny as best he could. It was a little difficult, what with the distracting and amazing things Benny was doing, and all too soon Dean felt the coiling in his belly. “Benny, fuck, Benny, I think—”

Grabbing tight to Benny’s hips, he thrust up once and it was all over. Throwing his head back, he rode out the waves of his orgasm. As soon as he could see straight again, he reached for Benny’s still hard cock.

Benny pushed his hand away. “Nah, not like that.”

They rearranged themselves so they were lying on their sides, facing each other in the tiny bed built for one person. It was a tight fit, but Dean loved being close to Benny. He dabbed more lube on his hand and stroked Benny off until he came, come spattering the bed and covering Dean’s hand.

“Give me a second,” Benny panted. “I just need to, need to catch my breath. Then we can clean up.”

“Marry me,” Dean said.

Benny’s eyes snapped up. “What?”

“Marry me,” he said again. Four damn years of back rooms and phone calls filled with formalities, not being able to say or do what they wanted. They were free now, free of the Capitol and its expectations. There was no one left to judge them. “Marry me.”

Benny chuckled. “One condition. We get cleaned up first.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say, the most fun about writing this fic was inventing the districts' idioms. Even regions in the same country have their different sayings, and I figured Panem was no exception, especially considering that each district has a "trade." Little things like "fall for her like a quart of wood" made me deliriously happy.


	16. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time in a very long time, Dean was home again. And tomorrow, he had to leave it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small warning: there is the use of "fag" in this chapter. I know some people don't like that word but it is self-referential. And once you get there, the context is quite clear.
> 
> All mistakes are mine, if you find a typo, let me know any it'll be caught and shot. Enjoy!

Their table in the dining hall exploded when they gave them the news. Elizabeth and Cas immediately started planning, comparing the traditions of marriage ceremonies from each of their districts. “In Four, we cover the couple with a net to show the protection of marriage,” Elizabeth said.

Cas nodded thoughtfully. “We have the couple split a log. It shows their shared willingness to work and provide for their home and future offspring.”

“No reason we can’t do both!”

Dean and Benny left them alone to plan and sat at the other end of the table with John and Sam. It was actually two tables pushed together. They had the largest “family” in 13. Since Dean had spent the last few days out cold, Sam explained some of the rules to him, especially when it came to the slightly smaller than average portion of food in front of him. “They have it down to a science,” he said. “Exactly enough food to give you the calories to take you through your day and to your next meal. You just got out of the hospital, so yours is a little bigger.”

Dean looked down at the small cup of stew, apple slices and slice of bread. “Huh.” He couldn’t imagine this portion getting any smaller.

“So, Benny,” John said. “You’re marrying my oldest without asking my permission?” His voice was stern but the twinkle in his eyes showed a bit of a joke to it.

Either way, Benny straightened up in his seat. “Actually, sir, he asked me. Tell me you’d be able to say no ta that?”

John chuckled. “He got his mother’s good looks, that’s for sure. Never was able to say no to her.” They kept chatting and Dean sat by, listening to his family accept Benny so completely. He rested his head on Benny’s shoulder and sighed to himself. For the first time, life was good, better than he ever thought it could be.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean swore he saw someone looking at him. Maybe they weren’t used to seeing victors around here? The eyes darted away as soon as he looked up. But there, across the canteen, another person was staring at him. And another over there, and another. Not just him, at Benny too. What was going on here?

“Dean?” He turned around and saw Chuck standing a few feet away from their table. Most of his children ignored him, but Gadreel smiled a little and Cas gave a stern nod. Looked like two days was not enough time to mend those fences. He nodded away from the table. “Could I speak to you for a moment?”

His first instinct was to tell Chuck to fuck right off, but he was the reason they were all here, and Dean was not one to burn his bridges. “Sure.” He got up and gave Benny a quick kiss on the cheek. Everyone smiled, Cas and Elizabeth continuing with their wedding planning.

“Follow me, please,” Chuck said. He led Dean out of the canteen, stopping to speak to one of the guards, “Please let Mr. Winchester return for the rest of his meal.” The guard nodded and they continued down the hall, into an unpopulated part of the corridor.

“What’s up?” Dean asked.

Chuck stepped close to him, much closer than he was comfortable with. He tried to take a step back but Chuck caught his arm, holding him in place. “You need to get out of here as quickly as you can,” he whispered.

“What?” Dean hissed. “We all just got here.”

“Not everyone. You and Benny.” He stepped closer, almost pressed right up against Dean. “President Coin doesn’t like victors. She’s only working with Haymitch Abernathy because he has control over Katniss Everdeen. You were relatively safe. You brought her doctors and soldiers. But with Benny.” He glanced down the corridor again, eyeing the closest guards fifty feet away. “You two have crossed a line. Strong stock that refuses to breed? It won’t be tolerated here for long.”

Dean stiffened. “I thought that was the Capitol’s line? It’s supposed to be different here.”

“And it is,” Chuck said. “They don’t want the children for games or for soldiers. Haven’t you looked around? Can’t you see the pox scars?” Now that he mentioned it, Dean did notice a few tell tale pox scars on some of the District 13 natives. “The pox killed a good portion of their population and made most of the others infertile. Haven’t you noticed the lack of children?” Dean had. “They want refugees for strong breeding stock. If you and Benny won’t reproduce, you’re of no use to President Coin or Thirteen.”

Dean’s mind was spinning. Just as he thought they were safe again... “It was hard enough getting twelve people in here. How do I get them back out?” And where would they go? With all of Panem in open revolt, there were few safe places. Dean thought this was one of them.

Chuck shook his head. “The others are safe, I promise you. You brought in high-value people, Coin wouldn’t kill them to spite you.”

He stepped away from Chuck and rubbed his hands through his hair. “I just got my family back and you’re telling me to leave them?”

“Yes.” Deep, old eyes looked out at him. The man he spent most of his life hating for what he did to Cas was now his only hope. Dean didn’t miss the irony of that. “I promise you, I will keep everyone safe. You believed me once, and I came through. You can trust me again.”

Dean ran a hand over his face, blocking out the world for a moment. Could he really leave his family? Now that they were all out from under the yolk of the Capitol, finally free to live their lives. He waited for this for so long, to be a part of the resistance that finally took down Jo’s killers, only to leave before the fighting started.

“Can you guarantee no one will be hurt? Not Cas, Naomi, Michael, Anna, Balthazar, Gadreel, Gabriel. Not my dad or Sammy, not even Elizabeth.” Oh, how was he going to convince Benny to leave his sister?

“Yes,” Chuck said. “You have my word, they’ll all be safe. I won’t even let the soldiers be assigned to any active zones.” Well, that was something.

“Okay.” Dean leaned back against the wall and took a minute to breathe. “I promised them a wedding. I can’t leave before that.”

“I’ll get you guys special permission to go topside for it tomorrow. You should make your escape then.”

They were escaping now? Did that mean they were captives? “I’ll let everyone know.”

Chuck reached out and squeezed Dean’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, son. After all you’ve done, this isn’t the reward you deserve.”

“Yeah. Don’t I know it.” Dean never expected to get what he deserved, ever since Gadreel’s name was drawn at the reaping all those years ago.

Back in the canteen, everyone was waiting for him. Most were chattering happily, but Cas and Benny looked at him as he approached, reading the grim set of his face. He tried to smile. They couldn’t talk about this here. “What happened?” Benny asked, making room for Dean at the table.

“Nothing much,” Dean said. “Chuck overheard us talking about the wedding and he said he’d get us permission to go topside tomorrow and have it outside.”

“Tomorrow?” Elizabeth said. “That’s not much time to plan.”

Dean shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be a big thing. Standing up in front of our families is good enough for me.”

Benny wrapped an arm around him and smiled. “Me too.” He leaned in to kiss Dean’s cheek and whispered in his ear, “Wha’s really goin’ on?”

“Later,” Dean whispered back.

After dinner there was “reflection” time before lights out. Dean didn’t have time to ask what the hell that meant. He wouldn’t be here long enough to find out...

They piled into Sam and John’s room and once again, Dean wondered how it fit his brother, let alone their larger than life father. Somehow, it managed to fit not just John and Sam, but Dean, Benny, Elizabeth, Cas, Gabriel and Gadreel. Anna was due at her hospital shift and they’d tell the others later after they’d had time to process. The only reason Gabriel was there was because he worked in the propaganda wing of 13. If anyone had any back alley info, it was him. Gadreel was apparently attached to Elizabeth, so Dean had trouble convincing him he wasn’t needed for this family meeting.

The door was barely shut when Cas asked, “What did my father say to you?”

All eyes were on Dean. He met Benny’s eyes and sighed. He was hoping to tell him first, but there was no time. “He said we have to leave.”

The room exploded with voices, everyone speaking at once. “Are you crazy?” “Dean, we just got here.” “Why would he say that?”

Dean held up his hands for quiet and the room was silent. One advantage to being the sole provider for his family was they all listened to him. More or less.

“Not all of us,” he said, his voice low. “Just me and Benny.”

“Why?” Benny snapped.

Dean met his eyes again and saw his anger. This was supposed to be a safe place and now Dean was pulling him out again? He had every right to be angry. After he had some sleep, Dean would join him. Despite having slept for the past two days, he was so very tired.

“Chuck told me President Coin doesn’t like victors.” He snorted, a mirthless sound, shaking his head. “And no one in Thirteen likes fags.”

“I can confirm that first part,” Gabriel said. He was sitting on the bed, wedged against the wall as Gadreel shoved him over to give Elizabeth more than enough room. “Down in the propaganda department, all the Capitol deserters love to gossip about Coin. Apparently, she only values victors if they can do something for Thirteen. As soon as Dean delivery the two doctors he promised, and refused to be a soldier, he wasn’t useful anymore. She’s worried victors might harbor loyalty to the Capitol.”

“They killed Jo,” Dean growled. “Why would I be loyal to them?”

“I didn’t say she was right,” Gabriel said.

Dean rubbed a hand across his face. “I know you didn’t. I’m sorry, Gabe.” He massaged his temples with his fingers, trying to think. “Maybe, maybe if we volunteer to be soldiers they won’t mind so much?” He hated the idea, but what choice did they have?

“No. Na-uh, Dean,” Benny said, standing up from the bed and grabbing Dean, making him look at him. “You an’ I did our fair share of volunteering, and more than our share of killing for someone else. I won’t do it, an’ I won’t let you do it either.”

“You have to leave,” Elizabeth said suddenly. Her voice was soft but clear, eyes sure as she stared both of them down. “Chuck and Gabriel are right. It’s not safe here for you two.”

“‘Lizabeth—” Benny started.

“Will you shut your fool mouth for a second!” she said. She didn’t yell, but It was the loudest Dean ever heard her raise her voice, and it was terrifying enough to shut Benny up. “For years, I’ve watched you set yourself on fire to keep me warm. It stops here, Benny. For once, you will put yourself before me and get the hell away from here.” Her voice softened, eyes pleading a little. “I’m safe here. There’s a hospital and medicine, an’ they’ve got me working in the kitchens. You set out to give me a better life and you did it. Now you need to stop worrying for my skin and worry about your own.”

“Elizabeth is right,” Cas said. Dean’s eyes went right to him. He was silent this whole time, not giving an opinion on this possibly life or death situation. Out of everyone here, Dean valued Cas’ opinion the most. “I don’t trust my father on much, but he knows how things work here. If he says you need to leave, then you must leave.

“Tomorrow, when we go up to the surface for the wedding, you two will leave. When the rebellion is over, we’ll send word and try to find you again.” And just like that, Dean knew no one would push back against Cas’ plan. His family wouldn’t, they were too used to him calling the shots, and Dean wouldn’t because... well, because of that look in his eyes.

It was the same one from all those years ago, when they stood together in the Justice Building, Gadreel hugging Dean so tight he couldn’t breathe. Eyes old beyond their years stared at him, tears welling at the corners. Somewhere deep down, Cas knew Dean made the right decision then, and Cas was making the right decision now. It was that absolute certainty, that courage of conviction Dean never had, that convinced him now.

He rubbed a hand across his face again and sighed, resigning himself. “Where will we go? Seven’s too far away, we’d never make it.” Not to mention they’d have to travel through a few districts still loyal to the Capitol. More were falling every day, but they couldn’t be too careful.

“We have to go to Four,” Benny said. “It’s closer, and after they destroyed Twelve, less hostile territory to make our way through.”

“Four was one of the first districts to join the rebellion,” Gabriel said. “Eleven’s as good as ours too. There’s no safer path.”

Dean huffed a small laugh. “Safe might be a relative term for us.” Still, it was a solid plan. He looked at Benny again and they both knew where their journey ended. “Benny’s got a cabin in Four. Secret. Only him, me and Elizabeth know about it.”

“Right,” Benny said. “We’ll head there.”

There wasn’t much else to discuss, not really. They’d bring their provisions up in the form of “wedding decorations” and the only problem left would be food. Well, there’d be about a million problems, but they could wait until tomorrow.

Everyone filtered out, back to their own rooms. Dean was a little surprised when Cas left. Dean was going to stay with Sam and their dad for the night—it was a tight squeeze, but he’d had worse beds than the floor—and he half expected Cas to stay too. The door opened again and Cas dragged the mattress from his bed through and plunked it onto the floor. He stared at Dean in challenge, as if to say “problem?” No problem on Dean’s end.

With an extra blanket taken from their room, he laid down on the mattress. Cas plastered himself half on top of Dean, more for the lack of room, he figured. On the floor in between Sam’s bed and John’s, with Cas’ hot breath on his neck, Dean couldn’t help but smile. Suddenly, he was back in their little cabin, before the Games, before everything. Cas decided to sleep over that night while Michael took care of the kids, and they both squeezed onto Dean’s little bed with the one side caved in. For the first time in a very long time, Dean was home again. And tomorrow, he had to leave it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's possible this is just my reading of it, but with the value District 13 puts on children, I don't think they'd like same sex relationships very much. That's my reasoning, anyways.


	17. Back in the Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benny picked up one of their packs and slung it over his shoulders. “We ready to go, chief?”
> 
> Though Dean suspected he’d never be ready, he nodded all the same. “Yeah.” With Bobby’s ax in his hand and his father’s jacket on his back, he was ready for anything, just like always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope this doesn't come across as the cliched "they're getting married!" thing. I needed an excuse for them to leave District 13 (I don't think Coin would just let them go) and this worked best. You'll see more of what I'm talking about in this chapter.

For twelve people heading out for a wedding, they were a somber group. Gabriel tried to perk them up before they walked out but it didn’t work. Not even the valid point of, “If we look like something’s up, they won’t let us out, special permission be damned.” could make them look less like they were all going to the gallows.

He did managed to get them to smile when they passed the last set of guards—the ones they had to convince the most—by singing a children’s song from District 7, The Swing:

 

_Up in the tree, tree, tree,_

_They wait for you, you, you and me,_

_To climb high, high. high,_

_Where we de-fy, fy, fy, the ground_

_Now everyone gather ‘round, ‘round, ‘round,_

_And watch us fly, fly fly,_

_I bet I can go high, high, higher, than the high-est branch_

_Here on the swing, swing, swing,_

_We’ll all take wing, wing, wing,_

_And fly a-way, way, way_

_Into the summer’s day._

 

Even Benny and Elizabeth, who didn’t know the song, were clapping along and looked for all the world like they were happy. That buoyant attitude stayed with them as they got past the final gate and walked into the woods, far enough so their “ceremony” wouldn’t be seen. Dean was having trouble thinking of this as a real wedding anymore. Wasn’t it just a cover to get them out? All the happiness he thought he found was dashed away before he could even enjoy it. But he put on a happy face and got into position when he was told, taking Benny’s hands in his when instructed.

Elizabeth draped the net over them and Cas started reciting. “We come together today to join two people as one.”

Cas’ deep, rich voice poured over Dean’s frayed nerves, calming him a little. He closed his eyes for a moment and let the words wash over him as the sounds of the forest greeted him for the first time in too long. The soft brush of the wind through the trees, the bubble of a stream nearby, and the soft bird song floating on the wind. Even the smell of the pine around them soothed his tormented soul. He’d journied through woods exactly like this one since before he could walk. It was his comfort, once the only comfort he could find, after what happened in the arena. He squeezed Benny’s hands and Benny squeezed back.

Dean opened his eyes and sparkling blue smiled back at him. Under the net, it was like no one could see them, it was their own private cocoon of safety. The last gift from his family before they left. Suddenly, this wedding didn’t feel like such a lie anymore.

“Dean,” Cas said. “Do you promise to protect and love this man from this day forward?”

“I promise,” Dean whispered.

“Benny, do you promise to protect and love this man from this day forward?”

“I promise,” Benny said.

“Here in front of everyone assembled, I pronounce you as one for all time,” Cas said.

The words were a little different. There was definitely no bride here, but it didn’t matter. Benny was his now, and only death could take that away. Dean leaned in and pressed their lips together. It was their first public kiss. He didn’t really count the one back in the hangar, born of need and the fear that he might never see Benny again. For the first time, Dean got to show his family how much Benny truly meant to him. With Benny’s arms tight around his waist, pulling him in, he guessed it was the same for him.

They pulled apart, but stayed under the net for a moment longer, still close enough so their foreheads were touching, breathing each other’s air. “I love you,” Benny whispered.

“I love you too.” Dean never said the words out loud, not to Benny, not to anyone really. I wasn’t that he didn’t love his family, he just... had his reasons. For the first time since his future with Jo vanished in front of his eyes, Dean let the words slip out, and he meant every one of them.

Benny slid the net off them and they were mobbed by their families. Elizabeth went right to Dean, hugging him tight. “There’s no better man for my big brother,” she said.

Dean smiled. “I’m not sure about that. I’ll definitely try to be good enough for him.”

He glanced up and saw Cas whispering in Benny’s ear. Benny nodded and clapped Cas on the arm. “Thanks for telling me, brother.” Of course, Cas probably felt guilty for all those nights in Dean’s bed, trying to keep him alive. Naturally he’d tell Benny to gain some sort of absolution.

Benny patted Cas on the back and they broke apart, drifting back over to Dean. Benny wrapped his arm around Dean’s waist and buried his face in his neck. For a second, Dean closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the moment of peace, surrounded by his family, no one trying to kill him.

“Alright, alright, present time,” John’s voice called.

Dean opened his eyes and chuckled at the dainty bag held in his father’s large, rough hands. “When we left, we grabbed a few things from home. You know, in case we weren’t going back. Just... here.” He shoved the bag into Dean’s hands. John was never good with words and Dean knew what he was trying to say.

“Thanks, dad.” He looked at the small blue bag.

It was made of some shiny material, satin or whatever. Dean remembered seeing something like this in their house, but couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He pulled open the drawstring and a plain little bottle half filled with liquid met his eyes. He knew where he’d seen it before.

“Dad,” he sighed. “I can’t take this, it was mom’s.” Their mother’s perfume bottle. It sat on her dresser, untouched for years. But sometimes, before the Games, when he or Sam were sick, they’d lay down to find their pillow smelling like their mother. The comfort in that long forgotten smell put them to sleep every time. As he got older, Dean suspected his father dabbed some around the house when they all needed a little peace.

“Yes you can.” John closed Dean’s fingers around the bag. “I have another one, don’t worry. And there’s this.” He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a battered old photo. Mary Winchester smiled out from it, four year old Dean in her arms. “We took it from your room when we left. We didn’t know if...” If it would survive. “The frame broke on the way here. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“I can make a new one. Thanks, dad.”

Over his shoulder, he felt Benny shift a little. “May I?” he asked. Dean nodded and handed him the photo. A wide smile broke across Benny’s face. “Your mama was a beautiful woman.”

“Thanks.” He took the photo and tucked it into his shirt pocket, right over his heart.

“Take this too.” John shrugged off his leather jacket and pressed it into Dean’s hands. “Nights can get cold around here. We can’t give you much by way of supplies, but we’ll give you all we can.”

“Thanks,” Dean said, worrying the soft leather between his fingers. How many times he’d gone into the forests with this jacket on his back? Part of him was sad to accept it, because maybe it meant his father never thought they’d see each other again. Dean tried not to think about that.

Sam handed him the larger bag, this one was of the burlap variety. Dean opened it, his eyes going wide. “Is this...?” He pulled the burlap off, exposing the ax for everyone to see. It was old and a little worn, but strong. He didn’t need the small “R. Singer” carved into the handle to tell him whose ax this was. “This is one of Bobby’s.”

“Ellen wanted you to have it,” Sam said. “It was a trick keeping the officials from Thirteen from absorbing it into their armory. I knew we had to keep it for you.”

“Thanks,” Dean said for what felt like the millionth time. “Thank you for everything.” Tears stung his eyes and he leaned against Benny for support. He’d never been so happy and so sad all at the same time. He didn’t like it.

Sam shrugged. “It’s nothing close to what you’ve done for us.”

John stepped in front of him again and wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, pulling their foreheads together. “We don’t have time for you boys to split a log. We’ve already been gone too long. You make me a promise, boy: whenever you get where you’re going, you two split a log and make your first fire with it. I don’t care if it’s blazing hot outside.”

“I promise.”

“Good.” One last squeeze and John released Dean.

“What are you gonna tell them when you come back two short?”

John shrugged. “Old District Seven wedding tradition. The couple takes a walk in the woods together.” Dean chuckled, a slight darkness to the sound. “When you don’t come back, we’ll say we knew nothing of your plan to leave.”

Between exchanging supplies, everyone said teary goodbyes. Benny drifted away to hold tight to Elizabeth one last time and whisper soft words into her hair. Just as he broke away, he grabbed Gadreel’s large arm and stared at him, eyes serious. “You take care of my baby sister, you hear?”

Gadreel, who wasn’t really all that much younger than Benny, nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Alright.” He kissed the top of Elizabeth’s head one more time before joining Dean. He picked up one of their packs and slung it over his shoulders. “We ready to go, chief?”

Though Dean suspected he’d never be ready, he nodded all the same. “Yeah.” With Bobby’s ax in his hand and his father’s jacket on his back, he was ready for anything, just like always.

They headed east, towards the stream to get some water for their long trip south. With no food in their packs (because stealing food from 13 was next to impossible) and empty water skins, Dean never felt more unprepared in his life.

They walked for a few miles in silence, staying close for protection but not touching. Benny didn’t once reach for his hand or squeeze his arm, as he was wont to do. He knew Dean didn’t want him to. They were both still... processing.

Finally, three miles away from their families, Benny spoke. “I know this is a stupid question, but how you doin’?”

Dean snorted, his grip tightening on Bobby’s ax. “I’m in unknown territory, got an ax in my hand, possibly surrounded by people who may or may not want to kill me.” He shook his head. “It’s like being back in the Games again.”

“Cher,” Benny’s voice was soft. For the first time in hours, he reached over and put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “We never left the Games.”

All those times in the Capitol... preening for enough attention to keep themselves and their loved ones alive, holding tight to everything they could get before someone else stole it away... Benny was right. Their lives were just one long Hunger Games. Dean shook his head and fell silent. Benny pulled his arm back and they kept walking.

“We could go back,” Benny said a little while later. “We ain’t that far. Not really.”

Dean shook his head. “No. We can’t go back. For one thing, Elizabeth would kill you. Then Cas would kill me.”

Benny smirked a little. “True.”

They kept walking. Just before nightfall, Dean held out a hand to stop them. Through the trees, he spotted a deer. Dinner. And just like back in the arena, Dean didn’t like killing a defenseless animal. Humans were different, humans could fight back.

They made a small fire to cook the meat, not saying a word to each other. Benny finished first and packed up the rest of the venison. There wasn’t much left and they’d have to hunt tomorrow too. Not to mention find more water. “Alright,” Benny said, distracting Dean from his plans for tomorrow. “I take the first watch.”

Dean nodded. He didn’t want to argue, and he was really beat. While he wasn’t in the worst shape, years of not having to work for his supper made the day’s trek harder than he remembered. He was surprised he didn’t fall asleep against the tree. He pulled his dad’s jacket tighter around his shoulders and made himself comfortable, resting his head in Benny’s lap. They’d never done anything like this before but it seemed natural. They were married after all, despite how strange a wedding night this might be.

Benny started dragging his fingers through Dean’s hair. “What can I do?” he whispered. With Dean’s eyes closed, he heard the shake in Benny’s voice. This was getting to him too. Maybe when he offered to go back, it wasn’t just for Dean’s sake...

Dean squeezed his leg. “You’re doing it.” They didn’t need words to explain how much this hurt. Just having Benny there was better than being on his own. Dean didn’t even want to think about that. Leaving everyone and everything he ever loved, no one by his side to keep him sane...

Still, he couldn’t sleep. His thoughts kept drifting back to 13, wondering if they bought the story that he and Benny skipped out without telling their families. After all they’d done to get them there, to get them kicked out to keep themselves safe. Another thing Dean didn’t want to think about.

“What was your token?” he asked. The question popped into his mind the moment he said it. He and Benny spent the past four years talking about almost everything, but not once did they talk about Benny’s token from the Games. The sudden need to know gripped him. What was the one thing the love of his life took to keep himself sane the first time he was marked for death?

Benny’s fingers continued stroking through his hair. “A lock of Elizabeth’s hair. She wove it into a bracelet for me. I lost it in the Games. It got cut from my wrist in a fight and I never found it again. Didn’t have time, what with the Careers trying to kill me for betraying them.”

“Oh,” Dean said. “I’m sorry you lost it.”

Benny shrugged. “Don’t matter much. I made it home to the girl, I didn’t need the hair anymore.” He chuckled softly. “You know, I’ve never told anyone about my token. Not even Xeno.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He continued stroking Dean’s hair until he fell asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My hat off to Suzanne Collins for writing all of those songs in the Hunger Games. I just tried to write one and it took me like a half an hour.
> 
> I'm fudging the wedding traditions a little. We all know from the books that District 4 uses a net over the couple and I had to think of something for District 7 too. Splitting a log made sense.


	18. Ashes to Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They walked over the top of a hill and Benny slammed to a stop. “Shit,” he hissed. Scorched ground, the still smoking husks of buildings, and charred bodies littered the area as far as they could see. Dean heard District 12 had been burned to the ground, but this...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be the last chapter and the next one the epilogue, but it didn't feel like a good ending. Hope you've liked reading as much as I liked writing this fic. This is a long chapter. I thought about splitting it, but I didn't want to drag this fic out longer than it needed to go.

Talking about their Games helped. Dean didn’t know why. It was always a topic they avoided, most victors did. Who wanted to relive the worst moments of their life? But after the first day walking in silence, quietly taking stock of all they’d lost, talking about anything made Dean feel better. It must’ve made Benny feel better too, because he didn’t hold back.

“The Careers were intense,” he said.

“What was it like?” Dean asked. “Being in with them?”

Benny shook his head, a shiver rolling through his shoulders despite the warm sun. “Some o’ them, you could tell they were there because it was expected of them. Given the choice, they’d hightail it out of there faster than you or me.” He shook his head again, his eyes going a little distant. “A few of the others, though. You just looked at them, and knew: somethin’ wasn’t right. They liked the killing.”

“Bobby always said only idiots volunteer. Looks like idiots and loons,” Dean said.

Benny smiled. “So what does that make us?”

He thought for a moment, then chuckled. “Half-crazed idiots, most likely.”

“Amen to that, brother.”

Training was different for them too. While Bobby told Dean to stay away from the axes, Benny’s mentor told him to run right for his best weapon. “He told me, that’s how you get in with the Careers. You show them how big and bad you are.” He laughed quietly. “It was the, uh, second day of training, I think. Oberen told me I was already in with the pack, but I didn’t like that idea much. So, as soon as the trainer’s back was turned, I missed the target on purpose and my spear went right—” They walked over the top of a hill and Benny slammed to a stop. “Shit,” he hissed.

Dean turned to look and the wide expanse on the other side of the hill met his eyes. Scorched ground, the still smoking husks of buildings, and charred bodies littered the area as far as they could see. They were still a ways away, so the smell didn’t reach them. Dean could imagine, though, the burnt flesh and the stinking smoke still coming from some of the buildings. He heard District 12 had been burned to the ground, but this...

“We gotta win this rebellion,” Benny whispered. “If the Capitol can do this to one district—”

“It can do it to all of them,” Dean finished, the exact same thought flashing across his mind.

Benny stepped closer to him, but didn’t touch him. They didn’t really touch, not out here where anyone could see them, but he suspected even Benny’s highly tuned sense of self preservation was overruled by the sheer horror of the sight in front of them. Dean wanted nothing but to wrap his arms around him and run to safety as fast as they could. But there was no safety, not until they reached District 4.

Reading their weapons, they made their way down into the smoldering remains of District 12. Benny managed to craft a crude spear a few days back, so they were as well armed as they could be. Wouldn’t do anything against a gun if the Capitol decided to return.

They walked through the ruins, looking for anything salvageable. They found mostly ashes. Ashes swirling around their feet, scuffing their boots and pants. Ashes from buildings or bodies, Dean didn’t want to think about it. They didn’t look for survivors. For one thing, 13 probably grabbed everyone they could, and for another... Dean didn’t think anyone could survive this. Finding nothing of use, they made their way up to the Victor’s Village. All the houses were still intact for some reason, and making camp in a house was much better than the shift sleeping in the woods they’d had to do these past days.

Only three of the houses were occupied (Haymitch, Katniss Everdeen, and Peeta Mellark) but Dean didn’t feel right staying in someone else’s home. That feeling fell short of searching them for food. Haymitch’s was filled with empty liquor bottles, not much food to speak of, and Benny refused to go to Katniss’ house. “Think about it,” he said. “President Snow’s got it out for that girl. Where else would he leave people lying in wait? Or booby traps?” Dean hadn’t thought about that. They avoided her house.

Peeta’s house was a bounty. Giant loaves of bread filled the cupboards, tins of cookies frosted to perfection, and butter! Real butter! Sure, some of the bread had mold, but once they cut those parts off, it was perfectly fine. While the electricity was off, the fridge was closed tight, keeping bugs away from some of the perishable items. There were a few apples that weren’t half bad. They took as much as they could carry over to one of the empty houses and settled in for the night. It was mostly bread, but after days in the wilderness with nothing but what they could find or kill, it was the best tasting bread they’d ever had.

“Next time I see this kid,” Dean mumbled around a mouth full of bread slathered with butter. “I’m gonna fucking kiss him.”

“Get in line,” Benny mumbled back.

When they’d both stuffed themselves full, they packed up whatever else they had. “We’re moving tomorrow,” Benny said. “I ain’t staying in one place too long.”

“Agreed.”

Making sure all the doors and windows were locked, they settled into the large master bedroom. It occurred to Dean that they hadn’t even slept at the same time since their wedding. It was always in shifts, making sure they weren’t attacked in the night, by a Capitol scout or an animal who was as hungry as they were. In fact, this was the first time they’d actually slept in a bed together. Dean didn’t know why that made him nervous.

He watched Benny strip down to his undershirt and pants—couldn’t be caught naked—and climb under the covers. He got himself situated and closed his eyes. “You comin’ or what?” he said with a smirk.

Dean smiled and took off his jacket and climbed in. Benny rolled over and wrapped himself around Dean, like they’d been doing it all their lives. He pressed a bristly kiss to the back of Dean’s neck. “When we get to the cabin,” he whispered, “I promise, we won’t have to sleep with one eye open anymore.”

“I know.” Dean grabbed Benny’s arms and squeezed, letting the warmth of the other man seep into him. He was so very, very tired.

But sleep wouldn’t come. He had all the right ingredients: a nice warm bed; an even nicer warm body with him; and a secure location. Still, he couldn’t close his eyes. In all the talking they’d done these past few days, they didn’t talk about what Dean felt most guilty for.

“I saw you talkin’ to Cas,” he blurted. “Right before we left. I think I know what he told you.”

He couldn’t see Benny’s face, but he felt the small smile pressed against his neck. “Alright. Is there somethin’ bad about what he told me?”

Dean rolled over and looked Benny in the eye. Sure, this wasn’t the most comfortable conversation, but Dean Winchester owned up to his past. There was very little he and Benny didn’t talk about, and he needed to get this off his chest. “Everything with Cas, it was just... comfort. I was drunk most times. Cas was just trying to keep me from killing myself—” another thing they didn’t talk about. In fact, Dean was pretty sure only Cas knew about his suicidal tendencies. Maybe Bobby or Ellen figured as much, but Cas was the only one to actually try to deter him. “And, the night before the wedding, it was just comfort. That’s all it ever was.”

Benny’s smile fell away as he spoke. Finally, he whispered, “What in the hell are you talking about?”

Dean’s face heated up. “Didn’t Cas tell you about all those times he slept in my bed? When I tried...” What did he try all those years ago? Even in his drunken state, Dean never thought he’d get far. And indeed, Cas didn’t let him. Nothing beyond some kissing and groping.

Benny closed his eyes and sighed. “Cas didn’t say anything about that. Nor should he. I’ve heard you talk about him, an’ I’ve met the man. There is no doubt in my mind that he’s as much family to you as your brother is. Whatever happened in the past, that’s the past. You can’t change it, I can’t change it, so there’s no use gettin’ bent outta shape over it.

“Besides, that’s not what he told me.”

“It wasn’t?” Cas was king of the guilty conscience. Even if they never actually did anything (a few drunk kisses and touches were nothing compared to what he and Benny did together) Cas would want to confess his imagined sins at the first available opportunity. So if he didn’t tell Benny about all those nights he slept in Dean’s bed, what did he say?

“He told me,” Benny began, his fingers carding through Dean’s hair. “That you don’t use the L word. You don’t say it to him, your daddy, or even your brother. They know you feel it, but he’s never heard you tell anyone that you love them. He wanted me to know that I was the first, and what a responsibility that was. He told me to take care of that gift. I told him I intend to.”

A lump rose in Dean’s throat. “It’s not that I don’t... they’re my family, of course I...” Dean cringed as he stumbled over the word.

“You don’t need to explain anythin’ to me.”

He held Benny tighter, staring into his eyes like they were the only thing tethering him to this world. “I want to.” He didn’t know why but he needed to get this out. Someone had to know why...

“It’s just that... you’re...” Oh how did he say this? “Durable. I know that, when I’m gone, you’ll be alright. Hell, if I died tomorrow, you’d make it to Four all on your own. I can count on you to... not need me.” Each word sounded more horrible than the last. Yes, dad and Sammy and even Cas could hold their own out in the woods. They were strong and capable, but take Dean away and they’d fall apart, no doubt about it. All his life, even before the Games, they all needed him so much.

“You’re the only person I have proof can survive on your own. You got through the Games—” Fuck, it sounded so terrible. That was the only measure of life for a victor, for anyone. How many Games had passed? How long since they’d won their Games? Dean didn’t know a single person who actually knew what year they were born, it was always ‘I was born January 24th, year of the 46th Hunger Games.’ It was so fucked up in so many ways. The terrible system the Capitol put in place was Dean’s only marker—of time, experience, even who to love.

He shook his head and hid his face in his hands. “I sound crazy,” he whispered.

“Hey.” Benny pulled his hands away, making Dean look at him. “I get it. I love my sister to bits, but I have lost too much sleep thinkin’ about what might happen to her if I die before she does.” He leaned in, pressing their foreheads together. “That’s why we’re together. I don’t need a lover, Dean, I need a partner. Someone to pick up my slack and know I’m gonna do the same. Because if I die tomorrow, you’d get yourself to Four too, no doubt in my mind.

“It’s been a tough couple ‘a days and we both need sleep.” He brushed a kiss across Dean’s forehead and pulled back. “I promise, we’ll talk all you like tomorrow, but now, we sleep.”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Dean closed his eyes and felt sleep coming. He didn’t let himself over analyse what that all meant: that he could only make himself vulnerable to love someone who, one hundred percent, without a doubt, did not need him in their life. Which, was fucked up in it’s own way, different from how Dean was already scarred from this life he was forced to lead. He’d think about that tomorrow. For now, Benny was right, they both needed to rest. They still had a long way to go.

~

Dean opened his eyes and immediately tried to yell out. The large hand clapped over his mouth made that difficult. Benny’s face swam into view, a finger pressed to his lips, warning for silence. Dean relaxed and once Benny knew he wouldn’t make noise, he pulled his hand away.

Nodding towards the window, the shade was lifted a crack. They peered through it and the bottom dropped out of Dean’s stomach. People were walking around the Victor’s Village. Too far away for Dean to make out faces, but he had a few ideas. “How did they find us?” he whispered. Which “they” was up for debate. Who wanted them dead more? The Capitol or District 13?

Benny shook his head. “I don’t think they’re here for us. I heard a hovercraft ‘bout an hour ago, been watchin’ even since. I think it’s Katniss Everdeen.”

Dean squinted at the girl with her hair in a long braid. She just walked out of the Everdeen house, holding what looked like mementos and family possessions. “Yeah, that’s her.” District 12 gets bombed to the ground, who else would it be?

Far away as they were, Dean saw her shaking. Maybe it was the reality of seeing her home reduced to nothing, or maybe President Snow left something for her to find. From what Dean had heard, it was definitely his style. Either way, he was really glad they didn’t go into her house. She walked over to the soldiers, one put an arm around her for a second and they all walked towards the meadow on the other side of the town. Dean and Benny kept their watch as the hovercraft took off and disappeared into the empty sky.

Dean let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and collapsed onto the floor. “Well that sucked.”

“Mmm.” Benny didn’t say a word, he just hummed softly to himself, his eyes still focused on the sky where the hovercraft used to be. Finally, he looked away. “We’ll stay a few more hours, to make sure everything is clear. Then we move. No more long stops until we reach Four.”

They packed up their stuff and whatever they managed to get from the houses. A good traveling bag, better than the burlap sack Dean had, and some extra clothes. Haymitch was about Dean’s size and Peeta was more like Benny in the shoulders. Some hems were a little too short, but it was better than the gray uniforms of 13. If they were found by the Capitol, those uniforms would give them away in a second.

The sun was already getting low in the sky when they started. Dean hated waiting that long but they couldn’t risk running into anyone, from the Capitol or 13. They had a lot of food and a good rest so they could go longer to make up their time. Dean suspected that was their last good night’s sleep until they reached Benny’s cabin.

They didn’t speak until the ruins of 12 were far behind them. “Suppose that means it’s really starting now,” Benny said. “The war with the Capitol.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t see her around Thirteen much. Where were they keeping her?”

“I heard she was pretty banged up after they pulled her out of the arena. Had her in a solitary area of the hospital.” He shook his head, more to himself. “If she was anything like Finnick... They got Annie, and it...” Benny shook his head again. “It tore the kid apart. I got to visit him in the hospital while you were out an’...” he trailed off. “If they don’t get her back, he’s gonna—”

Dean reached over and grabbed Benny’s free hand, lacing their fingers together. Benny and Finnick won back to back Games, they were close. Seeing someone he probably thought of as a little brother in so much mental anguish was hard on him, he didn’t need to say the words, Dean could tell.

“They will,” he said. “They’ll get her back. Annie and Johanna and Peeta. Katniss is up and around now. The first thing she does is get them out of there, you’ll see.”

“Yeah,” Benny said. “I’m sure.”

That night, when they made camp after a day of walking, it was Dean’s turn to comfort Benny while he kept watch.

~

It felt like months, but finally they made it to Benny’s cabin. Once they reached 4, it took all day to get there. District 4 was a hotbed of rebel activity and they didn’t know if 13 put out an order to find them. They didn’t know how valuable they were. Dean guessed not very, especially if Coin was going to kill them anyways. And they didn’t know any rebel secrets, nothing that the Capitol didn’t already know. Still, caution was always best.

They walked behind fishery three and Dean covered his nose. “Oh, that smell—”

Benny smirked and took a deep breath of the air filled with the odor of rotting fish. It might be gross, but it smelled like home to him. “Good,” he said. “They shut it down. Fishery three had exclusive production for the Capitol. That’s why they always go there on the Victory Tour. It’s in the best shape. First thing rebels would do is leave it to rot. No one will come near here now.”

Dean was thankful for their new smelly neighbor, not too thrilled though. As they got closer and closer to Benny’s cabin, the smell disappeared some, which was a small comfort.

Pushing aside the last of the foliage sheltering the cabin, Dean’s eyes went wide. “Wow, it’s a lot bigger than last time I saw it.”

“Well yeah.” Benny chuckled. “It’s been, what? Four years since you last saw it? I’ve had a lot of time to build.”

The little shanty of a thing was now twice as large and looked much sturdier. What started as four walls and a rickety-looking roof now had an extension, a porch, two visible windows, and a skylight. There was also a chimney coming from the roof. Chimney meant fireplace.

Dean handed Benny all his gear, except his ax. They were tired from their journey, but there was still something he had to do. “Can you get our stuff settled? I’ve got to get us a log.”

Benny opened his mouth to ask, then remembered their wedding ceremony. Gosh, how long ago was that? “Alright,” he said and took their things inside. “Don’t be long, yeah? Just because we didn’t see anybody doesn’t mean they’re not there.”

“I’ll be careful.”

With one last comforting squeeze of Benny’s hand, Dean started off into the trees. They didn’t have trees like this at home so it was difficult figuring out which might give him a good log. Still, being in the woods again—even a strange woods—calmed Dean’s torrid mind. After all they’d done to get here, they finally made it. That had to count for something.

He finally settled on one that was already tipped over, probably from a storm. It had a good trunk and the damage from the storm would hide any ax marks. He only hewed out one log, leaving the rest of the tree there for firewood later. Though, 4 was warmer than 7, they might not need it.

Benny was waiting outside the cabin. Relief broke across his face when he saw him. Dean smiled. “I stayed in sight of the house. You think someone could grab me and you wouldn’t see it?” He kissed Benny all the same.

He set the log in front of them. “So,” Benny said. “How do we do this?”

“I don’t know.” Dean had only ever seen it done. At Bobby and Ellen’s wedding, then a few others. “We have to plan it though. It’s bad luck to split it in one, so whoever goes first has to hold back a little. And it’s bad luck if it takes more than three strikes, so whoever goes second really has to go all in.”

“You got a lot a rules up in Seven.” Benny took the ax from him. “I ain’t much for splitting wood. I’ll take first go.”

He took the ax from Dean and waited while he set up the log. They didn’t have a stump for splitting, so the ground would have to do. Once everything was in place, Benny swung the ax. Dean tried not to laugh at the surprisingly feeble slice in the log. Considering Benny’s strength, he thought he’d get more than halfway through. But his strike was less than a third of the way down.

“Oh, hush you,” Benny said, half chuckling as he handed the ax back.

With no surprise, Dean’s swing made it all the way through. They stood in silence for a moment, staring at the two split halves lying on the ground. “So,” Benny said. “Are we married now?”

Dean smiled. “Almost. We still gotta make a fire with it.”

“Man.” Benny clucked his tongue and shook his head. “You got a lot a rules in Seven.”

It was burning hot outside and the fire should make the cabin stuffy, but somehow, it was comfortable. Benny spread a blanket out on the floor in front of the fire grate while Dean poked the fire to life. The flames were finally coaxed into a blaze and they leaned back on what seemed like every pillow and blanket in the house.

“Now we’re married,” Dean said.

Benny smiled and held him close, their arms and legs tangled together as they watched the flames. “‘Bout damn time.”

They sat for a while, quietly watching the flames as they burned the log down to ashes. “They’ll be alright,” Benny whispered into Dean’s hair, reading his mind.

Yes, he was still worried about their families. He’d never been away from his father or Sammy for more than a month, and now... he didn’t know how long the rebellion would take. Or if they’d all survive it. He had Chuck’s word they wouldn’t be put in harm’s way, but like it or not, Dean just didn’t know.

He tried to push it from his mind. Worrying about things he couldn’t change would tear him up inside. So he pulled Benny’s arms tighter around him and watched the fire until the log burned down to nothing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm fudging time a little. We're not sure how long Katniss was in the hospital at 13 before she came to visit the ruins of District 12. We also didn't see her exit the house, it just went from her finding to rose to sitting inside the hovercraft. I imagine 13 would send a few soldiers with her, at least.
> 
> Though I looked, I couldn't find an approximate guess on how long it would take to walk from Maine to Louisiana (13 to 4). The Appellation Trail runs from Maine to Georgia and that takes five to seven months. Since parts of the current US are under water in Panem, I'm going with four months. It took them four months to get from 13 to 4 on foot. If anyone has a better metric, please let me know.


	19. A Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A silver flash caught Dean's eye. He was instantly alert, his ax up, ready to attack as needed. His eyes darted around and through a thin patch of trees, he saw what made the reflection: a bright, shiney car sat on the other side of their cove. No one had cars. No one but—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we are done! To everyone who stuck with me and waited for this beast to be finished, I thank you all. There are no more climactic scenes, just a nice little chapter to tie up the end. It's been about a year since they arrived at Benny's cabin in District 4. It isn't clear in the books exactly how long the rebellion takes, so a little over a year seems right. Hope everyone enjoyed!

Time started to pass and, to Dean’s great surprise, life seemed almost normal. No one came to bother them. Either the rotting smell from fishery three kept them away, or the rebellion hadn’t touched this corner of 4. Benny had other ideas, he figured most people simply didn’t care. Everyone around here knew him, they knew he’d never throw in with the Capitol. There were others living near by who just wanted a quiet life away from the Capitol and the rebellion, so they had company.

Benny fished, getting enough to keep them full and happy, and Dean hunted a little and gathered some edible plants. There was a steep learning curve at first. The plants of District 4 looked nothing like what he had back home. It made him miss 7 more than he thought he would. He missed his brother and their dad, Cas and his family.

Some nights, they’d sit in front of their fire. They didn’t say a word to each other as they both silently recounted the things they’d lost, and if they’d ever get it back. Was Sammy okay? Dean always thought. What about Cas? If the rebellion was getting bad, District 13 might pull everyone into the field despite Chuck’s promises to keep them away from the fighting. They couldn’t be sure what was happening. Asking was too dangerous. And so they waited, and they worried.

Dean was out in their front yard chopping wood—it was the height of summer and they didn’t need a fire, but Benny salvaged an old wood stove a few months back, it made the cabin unbearably hot but Benny’s amazing food was well worth it—when a silver flash caught his eye. It was the kind of shine that came when the sun hit polished metal. Dean was instantly alert, his ax up, ready to attack as needed.

His eyes darted around and through a thin patch of trees, he saw what made the reflection: a bright, shiney car sat on the other side of their cove. No one had cars. No one but—

There was a rustle in the trees and Dean stepped back towards the house. “Benny!” he hissed through the open door. “Benny, get out here!” Benny emerged from the door, a heavy frying pan clutched in his hand. No doubt he heard the panic in Dean’s voice and grabbed the closest weapon.

“What’s up?” Benny whispered back.

Before Dean could tell him, the trees parted and Haymitch Abernathy walked into their yard. “Whoof,” he sighed, clutching a stitch in his side. “Hell of a trip to get over here.”

Dean and Benny both moved into defensive stances. Haymitch was a friend, and he did get them out, but last they knew, he was still with District 13, and 13 wanted them dead. “Haymitch,” Dean said, keeping his voice even.

He waved a hand at their weapons. “You guys can relax. I’ll give you the short version: we won.”

“An’ who is we?” Benny asked. The cast iron pan clutched in his fist was raised, ready to block and strike equally.

He eyed them both. “Are you kidding me?”

“You pull up in a Capitol car,” Dean said. “What are we supposed to think? And last time we saw you, you were part of the inner circle. Meetings with President Coin about the rebellion. As far as we know, she still wants us dead. Where does that put you?”

Haymitch waved a hand again, but did not approach them. At least he knew that from all his years dealing with twitchy trauma survivors. “That whole thing? Because you wouldn’t contribute to her new gene pool? Nah, that’s all over. Coin’s dead.” Dean and Benny took another step back. Haymitch seemed to realize that was the wrong thing to say. “Oh, no, I didn’t switch sides. Snow’s dead too. It was this whole thing, I can tell you on the way if you want.”

“On the way where?” Benny snapped.

Haymitch rolled his eyes. “Shit, she said you’d be a stubborn ass about this.”

She? “Who? Who said?” Benny’s teeth snapped together as he spoke. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the pan, looking for a reason to throw it at Haymitch.

But Haymitch was all smiles again. “Your sister, who else? How would I know where you were? She told me to come get you.”

“She never woulda—” Benny’s eyes went wide. He took a threatening step forward and Dean rushed after him, holding their line. “If you’ve harmed one hair on her head, I swear I’ll—”

“Woah, woah!” Haymitch held up his hands. “She’s safe and healthy. Do you honestly think Gadreel would let anyone hurt her? But here. This will convince you.” He reached into his coat pocket and Dean surged forward, ax ready to swing. Even with Benny’s strength behind the cast iron, the ax was a lot more threatening. Haymitch held his hands up, like a surrender.

“What’s goin’ on, Haymitch?” Dean asked, his voice calm but his ax ready to strike.

Hands still in the air, all joking was gone from his face. “I asked Elizabeth to give me something that would show Benny I was on the level. I got a letter in my pocket.” Slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. He handed it to Dean.

“Stay there,” Dean grunted and walked back to Benny.

On the outside of the envelope, _Benny_ was written in curly loops. “That’s Elizabeth’s handwriting,” he said.

“And this paper’s from Seven.” Dean ran his thumb over the envelope, feeling the grain and the weight of the paper. There was a small, soft bulge inside, more than just a letter. “There’s something in here.”

Benny tore open the envelope. A black bracelet fell into his hand, intricately woven from— “A lock of her hair,” Benny whispered so Haymitch wouldn’t overhear them.

Dean remembered, it was Benny’s token. “You said you never told anyone about it? That only she knew?”

He nodded, eyes locked on the bracelet. “You’re the only other person I ever told. It’s even—” his voice cracked and Dean saw tears welling in his eyes. “It’s woven the same way. It has to be from her.”

Dean glanced back at Haymitch, who was waiting patiently at the edge of the yard. “Read the letter,” he said.

The lock of hair gripped in one hand, Benny dropped the pan to hold the letter. Dean had never seen Benny voluntarily give up a weapon, not if he still thought they were in danger. And if Benny thought Haymitch was for real, then so did he. They pressed their heads together and read Elizabeth’s curly handwriting.

 

_Benjamin Laurence Lafitte,_

_If you don’t believe this is from me by now, I don’t know what’ll convince you. There’s too much to say here. I’ll tell you everything once you’ve come home. Better get a move on, or you’ll miss the birth of your niece and nephew._

_Love you,_

_Elizabeth_

 

Benny’s eyes went wide and he looked up at Haymitch, tears spilling over and trailing down his cheeks. Dean moved closer to him, bringing his ax up to shield them both. Benny pushed the ax down a bit, but didn’t say anything, he just stared at Haymitch. When he found his voice again, it came in a whisper. “She’s pregnant?”

“Oh yeah.” Haymitch smiled. “About eight months along. Twins, too. Castiel has her on bedrest.”

At Cas’ name, Dean’s head snapped up. “Cas? Cas is taking care of her?”

“Only person Gadreel would trust to look after her.”

“Gadreel, he’s the father?” Benny asked.

Haymitch nodded. “Yes he is. It’s slightly out of wedlock, if you must know. She wanted to wait for you to have the wedding. The twins were... a bit of a surprise.” His eyes shifted to Dean. “We got Johanna out. She’s back in Seven with everyone else. She sent a message for me to give to you. A lot of choice four-letter words, you can imagine. She can give it to you herself if we get a move on. Grab whatever you need and let’s blow this town.”

With Benny convinced, it wasn’t hard to win Dean over. They rushed back inside and grabbed what few sentimental items they had here. The perfume and the photo of his mother was all Dean had. They hadn’t gone back to Benny’s house in the Victor’s Village to get his things, they didn’t know who was watching it.

“Is there any way,” Benny asked as they followed Haymitch to the car, the bracelet already around his wrist, “to get some stuff from our house? There are some things she’ll be wantin’.”

Haymitch shook his head. “Nah, no need. We’ve got a team over there right now crating it out for you. Elizabeth sent Gadreel with a list.”

“Gad’s here?” Dean asked.

“Oh yeah.” Haymitch chuckled a little under his breath. “Ever since Elizabeth went on bedrest, she’s been using every excuse to get him out of the house. Otherwise he hovers.”

Benny stopped walking. “You seem pretty up on what’s happening half a world away from your home district.” All the happiness and excitement at the thought of seeing his sister was gone as he glared down at their old friend. Benny was right, Haymitch was from the other side of Panem. Why would he know or care about the lumber district? Dean stepped away from him as well, letting his ax fall from his shoulder.

Haymitch sighed and shook his head. “War’s over, boys. There’s no your district against my district anymore. And for your information, victors are kind of an endangered species right now. I’ve been keeping in contact with whoever I can. Since you guys went off the reservation, I had to spend three months convincing your families I wanted you back with them too.”

“What do you mean?” Dean turned the words over in his head. That didn’t mean—it wasn’t possible. “Ellen?”

He simply shook his head. “I’m sorry. She died fighting, if that’s a comfort.”

“It isn’t,” Dean whispered.

Haymitch shrugged. “The Capitol assumed all victors were with the districts. The districts assumed victors were Capitol spies. It’s the price of fame, I guess.” Dean’s anger swelled at the words, the way it hadn’t in months. The near extinguished fire in the pit of his stomach flickered to life. Why did they even bother? If the Capitol didn’t finish them off, their own people did? After all Ellen had done for 7?

Benny’s head snapped up as he finally understood. “Finnick?”

“I’m sorry,” Haymitch said again. “It’s not much consolation, but he died a hero. He helped Katniss make the final push inside the Capitol to get to Snow.”

Though fresh tears stung at the corners of his eyes, Benny drew himself up. “That’s Finnick, always doin’ the stupid thing.” He seemed to pull himself together again and continued the walk down to the car.

Dean stayed right where he was, silently fuming. What if this was the plan? Lure the last two victors back home, and kill them before they got there? Then, all the remains of the Capitol’s oppressive rule would be gone, finally a fresh start for the rebels. He knew Haymitch would never agree, not at first. They were friends, but everyone had a price. And one thing all victors had in common? They knew how to survive. Maybe this was just Haymitch’s way of surviving. Turning them in to keep his own life.

He grabbed Benny’s hand, pulling the bigger man back. He gripped his ax tighter. Haymitch simply rolled his eyes. “Seriously? How much more convincing do you need?” He started ticking off on his fingers. “I came to the place only Elizabeth could point me to. I had a note from her that only she could’ve written, and some sort of bracelet that convinced Lafitte. What more do you want, Winchester?”

Dean didn’t say anything. Benny’s hand held tight in his, he started backing them both up the path, back to the house. “You could’a lied to her,” he said. “Who knows what the new government wants with us? Get rid of all the victors and Panem gets a new start.”

Haymitch smiled again. “You wanna know what the government wants to do with you guys? Ask them yourself. Hey!” he yelled down to the silver Capitol car still waiting for them. “Sam! Give us a hand here?”

The car door opened and a very tall man in a suit climbed out. Long brown hair just begging for a trim hung in his eyes, but Dean recognized that face anywhere. “Sammy?”

“Hey Dean.” He walked past Haymitch. Ignoring the ax in Dean’s hand, he wrapped his arms around his brother, pulling him into a tight hug. “Its good to see you.”

Dean hugged back, squeezing as hard as he could. This was his brother, real and alive and here, coming to take him home. “What are you doing here?”

Sam shrugged. “I’m Haymitch’s ace in the hole. He figured the only way you’d get into a car was if I was driving it.”

“Thirteen taught all their soldiers to drive,” Haymitch said. “Comes in handy.”

Dean pulled back and looked Sam up and down. The suit looked Capitol made but with a few differences. The lining, the color of cherrywood, had an interesting pattern that made it look like wood grain. They’d never do that in the Capitol, not even to show off a victor’s home district. Standing next to Dean in the beat up cargo shorts Benny managed to trade off a fisherman, and his t-shirt full of holes, they couldn’t look more different. But it was his brother, through and through. “Sammy,” Dean sighed and shook his head. “What the hell are you wearing?”

A smile cracked across his face and Sam shook his head. “I’m wearing what’s expected of a District Representative.”

“Representative?” Dean turned the word over in his mind, it still didn’t make sense.

“New government,” Sam said. “Each district gets three Representatives, the Capitol gets two, so there are no ties. We’re still working things out. I’ll tell you more on the way home.”

He laughed, deep and louder than he should. “Civics lessons with Sammy? I can’t wait.”

They climbed into the car and sped off to the train station. Dean held tight to Benny’s hand, but they didn’t speak until they were on the train, heading back to 7. Sam answered all their questions: what happened after they left, who was in power now, anything they could think of. Finally, Dean was too tired to continue. A year on the run depleted him in more ways than he knew and they both needed to rest.

“We’ve got the rest of our lives to talk,” he assured Sam. Sam smiled and let him and Benny retire to one of the bedrooms. Oh, how he hated these trains. Tools of the Capitol to keep watch on the victors... now, it was returning him to his family. According to Sam, the new government took advantage of the infrastructure already in place, even if it was used for nefarious purposes in the past.

Dean didn’t know if he’d ever be able to get over it, the Games, the Capitol, Jo, Bobby, everyone he’d lost. He couldn’t imagine a day when he’d look at his house in the Victor’s Village and not think of the blood he spilled to get it. If what Haymitch said was true and victors were rare these days, the only person who’d really understand how he felt was lying in bed right next to him.

Maybe, that wasn’t so bad after all.

The End

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I completely made up Benny's middle name.


End file.
